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UC-NRLF 


H   r  D 


Marshall  C.    Cheney 


THE  MISSION  OF  POUBRLOV 


BY 


FREDERICK  R.  BURTON. 


\h\V    YORK 

STRH1-T  &   SMITH,   PUBLISHKKS 

jt    Rosi-  STKHI-T 


Ex 

M 
/an    CHfer 


T 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGK 

I — Her  Wedding  Morning 7 

II— An  Explanation  Suggested 15 

III — An  Imperfect  Vision '23 

IV — Clara's  Search  Begins 31 

V— The  Agent  of  the  Czar 39 

VI-  Litizki  at  Work 47 

VII— A  Dangerous  Man 55 

VIII  -In  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy 63 

IX — Litizki's  Lesson 71 

X — Corroborative  Detail 78 

XI-  Strange   Exit  of  Poubalov 87 

XII — Litizki  Breaks  His   Appointment 95 

XIII— What  Became  of  Litizki 103 

XIV— A    New  Departure Ill 

XV  —Louise  lieceives  a  Caller 119 

XVI— Lizzie  White 127 

XVII — How  Litizki  Saved  Miss  Hilman 135 

XVIII— The  Key  to  Ivan's  Prison 143 

XIX -The  Ghost  of  Poubalov 151 

XX— The  Little  Front  Room .  159 

XXI -What  Paul  Palovna  Saw 167 

XXII— Ponbalov's   Revolution 175 

XXIII— At  One  O'clock  A.M 183 

XXIV— The  New  Clew 191 

XXV  -A  Stubborn   Antagonist 199 

XXVI -Hide  and  Seek 207 

XXVII— Behind  Closed  Doors 216 

XXVIII— Poubalov  Succeeds 225 


A  WEDDING 
BUT  RATHER  LATE 


CHAPTER  I. 

THEIR  WEDDING  MORNING. 

Ivan  pulled  aside  the  curtain  and  looked  up  at  the  sky. 
It  was  as  clear  as  crystal,  as  blue  as  the  eyes  of  his  be- 
loved, the  promise  fulfilled  of  a  perfect  day.  On  a  win. 
dow  cornice  across  the  street  a  tiny  bird  perked  his  head 
toward  the  sun  and  chirped  noisily.  To  a  lively  imagina- 
tion kindled  by  fond  anticipations  the  twittering  of  the 
bird  would  have  seemed  like  music.  So  it  was  to  Ivan. 
His  heart  responded  with  unformed  melodies,  and  some 
of  their  stray  notes  found  their  way  humming  to  his 
throat  as  he  hastened  his  toilet. 

A  long  process  it  was  in  spite  of  his  haste.  Every  outer 
garment,  though  but  yesterday  brought  by  the  tailor, 
had  to  be  brushed  with  exquisite  care,  and  when  it  came 
to  adjusting  his  tie,  what  with  finding  in  the  light  of 
this  beautiful  morning  that  not  one  of  the  numerous  as- 
sortment seemed  to  be  bright  enough  for  the  occasion, 
and  having  rejected  all  in  turn,  and  having  selected  one 
at  last  that  might  be  made  to  do,  and  having  found  the 
knot  and  loosed  it — well,  time  had  passed,  and  under  ordi- 
nary circn-m stances  patience  might  have  gone  with  it.  Or- 
dinary, tlae  circumstances  were  not,  and  if  they  had  been 
I  presume  any  tie  could  have,  and  would  have  been 
thrown  together  in  a  shape  not  less  pleasing  than  that 
which  finally  caused  him  to  turn  from  the  mirror  in  cheer- 
ful despair  and  ring  for  breakfast. 


8  THEIR  WEDDING  MORNING. 

for  she  had  been  expecting  it  with  quivering  anxietjr  for 
the  last  half  hour.  Good  soul!  With  eggs  at  thirty-five 
cents  a  dozen  she  nevertheless  plunged  two  in  hot  water 
every  four  minutes,  in  order  that  her  lodger  might  not 
trace  the  slightest  sense  of  disappointment,  on  this  event- 
ful day,  to  her. 

"I  do  hope  his  last  breakfast  here  will  be  a  pleasant 
one, "  she  said  when  her  daughter  protested  against  the 
extravagance. 

There  was  certainly  nothing  in  the  plain  breakfast  to 
call  for  criticism.  Ivan  might  not  have  noticed  it  if  there 
had  been,  for  his  thoughts  were  elsewhere,  and  his  emo- 
tions were  stirred  by  causes  at  once  more  delicate  and 
more  powerful  than  appetite;  but  Mrs.  White  was  prob- 
ably in  the  right.  It  would  have  been  a  pity  to  permit 
any  chance  of  a  jarring  note  however  slight  in  the  har- 
mony that  pervaded  his  being. 

Ivan  greeted  his  landlady  gayly,  and  attacked  his  meal 
as  if  there  were  no  such  thing  as  love  in  the  world,  love 
that  makes  man  melancholy,  that  destroys  the  delights  of 
good  living,  that  drives  him  to  the  production  of  gloomy 
wails  in  more  or  less  eccentric  verse.  There  was  no  such 
love  for  him.  Out  of  the  storm  and  stress  of  an  event- 
ful career,  in  which  misfortune  had  rained  its  blows  upon 
him  with  undue  severity,  love  had  arisen  like  the  com- 
forting glow  of  b.  home  hearth  fire,  and  it  shone  upon  his 
exile  with  naught  in  its  beams  but  serenity  and  peace. 
Ivan  was  happy. 

Breakfast  was  hardly  begun  when  Mrs.  White  again  ap- 
peared. 

"There's  a  gentleman  to  see  you,  Mr.  Strobel, "  she  said 
hesitatingly;  "I  didn't  like  to  disturb  you,  but  he  seemed 
very  anxious,  and  so  I  said  I  would  see  if  you  were  at 
home." 

She  laid  a  card  upon  the  breakfast  table  and  waited. 
Ivan  glanced  at  it  and   frowned.    So,  there  must  needs 
be  a  cloud  upon  this  day  to  remind  him,  as  if  he  needed  it! 


THEIR  WEDDING  MORNING.  9 

how  surely  the  sun  of  happiness  was  shining  for  him.  Al- 
exander Poubalov !  What  could  he  be  doing  in  America, 
and  what  could  have  led  him  to  call  at  just  this  juncture? 
Bah !  there  could  be  no  significance  in  it,  nothing  but  a 
memory  of  troublous  experiences  could  be  evoked  by  his 
presence,  nothing  connected  with  that  past  could  possibly 
intervene  now  between  him  and  the  new  life  upon  which 
he  was  joyously  entering. 

Mrs.  White  was  sorely  distressed,  for  she  saw  that  her 
lodger  was  disturbed,  and  in  her  motherly  heart  she 
wished  that  she  had  told  the  stranger  below  one  of  those 
white  lies  that  have  come  to  be  regarded  as  not  sinful  in 
that  they  effect  at  least  a  postponement  of  evil.  She 
might  have  said  that  Mr.  Strobel  was  engaged,  or  that  he 
had  given  up  his  room  a  week  before.  Both  statements 
would  have  been  true  enough  for  the  Recording  Angel's 
book,  goodness  knows! 

"If  you  had  only  just  gone,  or  if  he  had  come  an  hour 
later,"  she  murmured  plaintively. 

"Oh,  there's  nothing  the  matter, "  cried  Ivan,  lightly; 
"I  was  simply  wondering  what  in  the  world  he  could  want 
with  me.  I  haven't  seen  him  for  five  years.  Show  him 
up,  please." 

Not  half  satisfied  that  nothing  was  the  matter,  Mrs. 
White  obeyed,  and  presently  Alexander  Poubalov  stood 
upon  the  threshold.  He  was  a  distinguished-looking  man, 
tall,  swarthy,  middle-aged,  a  remarkable  contrast  to  his 
fair-haired  fellow  countryman,  Ivan  Strobel. 

"I  am  indeeed  glad  to  see  you,  Strobel, "  he  said,  his 
deep  tones  vibrant  as  a  church  bell;  "may  I  come  in?" 

"I  received  your  card  and  I  sent  for  you,"  replied  Ivan, 
coldly.  He  had  risen  and  was  standing  by  the  breakfast 
table. 

"I  shall  be  sorry  if  I  have  disturbed  you,  for  I  had  no 
such  purpose  in  calling  upon  you.  Pray  go  on  with  your 
breakfast,"  and  Poubalov  took  a  step  or  two  forward,  as  if 
waiting  for  an  invitation  to  sit  down. 

Mrs.  White  was  prompt  in  responding  to  the  summons, 


10  THEIR  WEDDING  MORNING. 

"To  what  purpose,  then,  may  I  attribute  your  call?" 
asked  Ivan,  without  stirring. 

"You  are  in  haste,  my  friend,"  replied  Poubalov,  smil- 
ing; "you  have  probably  learned  the  American  habit  of 
putting  business  ahead  of  all  other  things ;  but  I  see,  too, 
that  there  may  be  some  especial  reason  to-day  for  hurry. 
You  are  dressed  to  go  out,  and  you  have  packed  your 
trunks " 

"It  is  quite  like  you,"  interrupted  Ivan,  "to  note  every 
detail  and  attach  some  significance  of  your  own  to  it.  You 
are  right,  however,  on  this  occasion.  Time  is  precious 
with  me  to-day.  I  am  to  be  married  at  noon." 

"Ah!  married!  Strobel,"and  Poubalov  made  as  if  he 
would  extend  his  hand,  "I  wish  you  would  permit  me  to 
congratulate  you." 

"It  is  unnecessary, "  responded  Ivan,  remaining  like  a 
statue  by  his  chair. 

Poubalov  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  looked  disap- 
pointed. 

"As  you  will,"  he  said,  "and  perhaps  it  would  be  as 
well  to  postpone  my  call,  as  it  seems  you  regard  it  as  an 
unhappy  intrusion." 

"If  you  have  any  business  other  than  that  attending  to 
a  spy  in  general, "  said  Ivan,  "I  shall  be  pleased  if  you 
will  dispatch  it  now.  If,  on  the  contrary,  you  still  have 
any  interest  in  my  movements,  I  will  give  you  my  itiner- 
ary, and  you  can  follow  me  if  you  like.  I  will  only  sug- 
gest that  we  are  not  in  Russia,  and  that  it  is  not  my  in- 
tention to  go  outside  the  jurisdiction  of  the  United 
States." 

"You  need  only  tell  me,  if  you  have  no  objection,"  re- 
plied Poubalov,  "where  I  may  look  for  you  some  time 
after  your  wedding  journey." 

Ivan  picked  up  Poubalov 's  card  and  wrote  an  address 
upon  it.  "I  shall  live  there,"  he  said,  handing  the  card  to 
his  caller.  "I  expect  to  return  in  two  weeks." 

Poubalov  read  the  card  and  thoughtfully  placed  it  in  his 
pocketbook.  "If  I  knew  how  to,  Strobel, "  he  remarked 


THEIR  WEDDING  MORNING.  11 

gravely,  "I  would  assure  you  that  you  need  have  no 
anxiety  on  my  account  during  your  honeymoon,  or  after- 
ward; but  I  see  clearly  that  now,  as  heretofore,  you  will 
place  no  reliance  whatever  upon  my  words,  and  that  you 
discredit  my  motives." 

"You  speak  truly,"  said  Ivan;  "but  we  will  not  discuss 
the  reasons  for  my  distrust.  You  know  them  even  better 
than  I  do.  You  may  spare  yourself  any  words.  I  shall  not 
be  disturbed  by  anxiety." 

"On  another  occasion,  then,  I  may  hope  for  a  somewhat 
extended  conversation.  Good-morning.  My  good  wishes 
would  doubtless  be  repugnant  to  you." 

Ivan  bowed  silently  and  Poubalov  withdrew. 

"Strange  that  I  should  be  pursued  after  all  this  lapse  of 
time,  and  to  this  far  country,"  thought  Ivan;  "but  I  have 
done  right.  I  have  nothing  to  fear  from  Poubalov  or  the 
government  whose  paid  spy  he  is  ' 

He  looked  at  his  watch,  and,  resuming  his  place  at  the 
table,  hastily  swallowed  a  cup  of  coffee.  Mrs.  White's 
eggs  remained  unbroken. 

A  carriage  was  waiting  for  him  at  the  door  and  it  was 
time  that  he  should  go,  for  the  wedding  was  to  take  place 
at  Rev.  Dr.  Merrill's  little  church  in  Eoxbury,  four  miles 
away.  With  moderate  driving  and  no  accident  he  would 
be  there  in  time  to  meet  the  bridal  party  at  the  door.  A 
happy  farewell  to  his  landlady  and  her  daughter,  and  he 
was  off. 

He  did  not  notice  that  as  his  coupe  turned  into  Somer- 
set Street  from  Ashburton  Place,  a  closed  carriage  left  its 
position  not  far  from  Mrs.  White's  door  and  followed.  If 
he  had  observed  it  he  would  have  thought  nothing  of  it, 
for  in  Boston  other  persons  besides  bridegrooms  employ 
public  conveyances,  and  it  is  not  always  that  a  cabman  is 
employed  to  drive  a  fare  to  a  wedding. 

Ivan's  coupe  rolled  gently  down  Park  Street,  and  just 
as  it  reached  the  corner  of  Tremont,  one  of  the  forward 
wheels  came  off.  The  passenger  was  precipitated  forward, 
and  the  driver  with  difficulty  kept  his  seat.  He  climbed 


12  THEIR  WEDDING  MORNING. 

down  in  a  moment,  angry  and  bewildered.     He   could  dis- 
cover no  break  about  his  vehicle,  but  there  was  the  wi 
upon   the  ground,  there  was   the   body  leaning   forward, 
straining  upon  the  shafts,  disconcerting  the  horse— 

"Open  the  door!"  cried  Ivan,  imperatively;  "I  can't  be 
shut  up  here!" 

The  driver  got  the  door  open  after  a  little  trouble  and 
Ivan  crawled  out. 

"I  don't  see  how  it  happened,"  began  the  driver. 

"No  matter.  It  can't  be  helped  in  a  minute,  can  it?  I 
must  have  another  conveyance." 

A  crowd  was  quickly  gathering,  and  as  Ivan  looked 
around  him  he  caught  the  eye  of  the  driver  of  the  closed 
carriage. 

"Are  you  engaged?"  called  Ivan.  Then,  as  the  driver 
signified  his  willingness  to  take  a  fare,  Ivan  recoiled.  The 
carriage  looked  as  if  it  were  on  the  way  to  a  funeral.  He 
hated  presentiments,  and  despised  himself  for  the  momen- 
tary feeling  of  discomfort. 

"You  can  pull  down  the  curtains,  sir,  after  you  get  in," 
said  the  driver  as  if  he  had  noticed  his  prospective  passen- 
ger's discomfort.  "Where  to,  sir?"  he  continued  with  his 
hand  on  the  door. 

Ivan  told  him  and  with  a  "Hurry,  please, "  bolted  into 
the  carriage. 

The  driver  sprang  to  his  seat  as  if  his  salvation  de- 
ponded  on  his  speed,  lashed  his  horse  heavily,  and  the 
carriage  fairly  leaped  through  the  crowd  and  down  Tre- 
mont  Street.  It  was  a  beautiful  June  morning  and  the 
passenger  was  on  his  way  to  his  own  wedding,  but  he  did 
not  lower  the  curtains  of  the  gloomy  carriage. 

A  gentle  quiver  of  excitement  stirred  the  congregation 
that  filled  the  little  vine-covered  church  on  Parker  Ave- 
nue as  the  clock  tolled  the  noon  hour  ai»d  the  organist  be- 
gan to  play  softly,  his  fingers  weaving  scraps  of  melody 
into  a  vague  but  pleasing  harmony  like  the  light  that  fil- 
tered through  the  stained  glass  windows.  This  was  but 


THEIR  WEDDING  MORNING.  13 

the  suggestion  of  a  coming  outburst  of  harmony,  for  pres- 
ently, as  the  joyful  procession  would  be  ready  to  move, 
he  would  open  all  the  gates  of  sound  and  flood  the  edifice 
with  the  triumphal  strains  of  the  Wedding  March,  strains 
that  seem  light  and  music,  too,  to  all  listeners  and  be- 
holders. Within  the  vestibule  the  bridal  party  awaited  the 
coming  of  the  groom.  There,  too,  were  Ivan's  two  friends, 
to  do  him  honor  by  marching  with  him ;  one  a  Eussian 
like  himself,  the  other  an  American.  With  smiling  faces 
they  all  endeavored  to  conceal  annoyance  that  was 
speedily  turning  to  anxiety  over  Ivan's  delay. 

Clara  Hilman,  as  lovely  a  bride  as  ever  donned  the 
orange-decked  veil,  stood  with  palpitating  heart  beside 
her  uncle  and  guardian,  Matthew  Pembroke.  With  awk- 
ward words  he  was  trying  to  soothe  what  he  felt  must  be 
her  fears.  All  about  them  were  pretty  children  dressed  to 
follow  the  bride,  and  Clara's  dearest  girl  friends.  Within 
the  chancel  Di.  Merrill  waited,  wondering  a  little,  but 
not  permitting  himself  to  attach  hasty  blame  to  anybody 
for  this  embarrassing  hitch  in  the  proceedings.  The  or- 
ganist looked  inquiringly  at  the  group  that  had  found 
places  in  the  choir  loft  and  they  returned  his  gaze  by 
shakes  of  the  head. 

"You  are  more  nervous  than  I  am,  uncle,"  said  Clara 
with  an  attempt  at  bravery,  though  her  trembling  lips 
betrayed  her;  "he  will  be  here." 

"There  he  is!"  cried  Ralph  Harmon,  one  of  Ivan's 
friends,  as  a  carriage  was  seen  to  turn  into  the  avenue 
from  a  street  a  little  way  off,  and  come  hurrying  toward 
the  church.  "Be  ready  to  tell  the  organist,"  he  whispered 
to  a  boy  who  stood  near. 

The  waiting  procession  fell  into  partial  disarray  as 
every  one  craned  his  or  her  neck  to  see  the  bridegroom 
step  from  the  carriage  which  now  halted  at  the  steps  All, 
nearly  all,  could  see  through  the  open  doors  as  the  driver 
dismounted  and  opened  the  door. 

A  shiver  of  disappointment  passed  over  the  wedding 


U  THEIR  WEDDING  MORNING, 

party.  An  old,  bent  man  issued  from  the  carriage,  leaning 
heavily  on  a  cane  and  hobbled  up  the  steps. 

"This  is  stranger  than  Ivan's  delay!"  exclaimed  Har- 
mon in  a  whisper  to  his  Russian  colleague;  "I  don't  be- 
lieve old  Dexter  ever  went  to  a  wedding  before  unless  it 
was  his  own,  and  I  never  knew  he  was  married." 

"Who  is  he?"  asked  the  Russian. 

"Old  Dexter  is  all  I  can  say.  He's  a  kind  of  miser  and 
money-lender  combined,  I  think.  I  don't  believe  he's  any 
friend  of  Ivan's." 

"No.     He's  bowing  to  Mr.  Pembroke." 

Very  ceremoniously  but  with  a  halting  movement,  the 
old  man  had  taken  off  his  hat  to  Mr.  Pembroke  and  passed 
on  into  the  church.  Mr.  Pembroke  had  bowed  stiffly  in 
return  and  then  bent  over  his  niece  to  speak  to  her. 

Clara  was  by  this  time  plainly  disturbed.  It  was  a 
quarter  past  the  hour,  and  the  congregation  itself  was 
getting  nervous.  A  few  persons  came  out  into  the  vesti- 
bule to  learn  what  caused  the  delay.  The  organist's  flit- 
ting harmonies  became  monotonous,  intolerable,  and  the 
rector  within  the  chancel  was  not  so  impatient  as  alarmed. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  organist  stopped  altogether. 
The  rector  joined  the  wedding  party  in  the  vestibule. 
Clara  had  been  taken  to  a  room  in  the  vestry  by  her 
guardian. 

"If  he  should  come  now,"  said  Mr.   Pembroke,  gravely, 
I  don't  believe  we  could  go  on.  The  strain  has  been  too 
great  for  Clara." 

Dr.  Merrill  spoke  to  her  as  only  a  clergyman  can  speak 
to  a  parishioner,  and  minutes  dragged  along. 

At  last  when  an  hour  had  passed,  and  there  was  yet  no 
word  from  Ivan,  the  rector  dismissed  the  congregation, 
and  the  members  of  the  wedding  party  went  homeward, 
wondering  and  sorrowful. 


AN  EXPLANA  TION  S  UG  GESTED.  15 


CHAPTER   II. 

AN  EXPLANATION   SUGGESTED. 

"Wait  for  me  a  moment,  Paul,"  said  Ralph  Harmon  as 
the  people  began  to  pour  out  of  the  church. 

He  went  to  the  room  in  the  vestry  where  Clara  Hilman 
sat  pale  and  tearless.  With  her  were  Mr.  Pembroke,  his 
daughter  Louise,  and  two  or  three  other  young  ladies  who 
were  intimate  friends  of  the  unfortunate  bride.  Ralph  did 
not  approach  the  group,  -but  paused  at  the  door  and  looked 
significantly  at  Miss  Pembroke.  She  went  to  him  at  once, 
and,  unseen  by  the  others,  he  took  both  her  hands  in  his 
and  said: 

"  I  am  going  to  Strobel's  room  and  shall  take  PaloTna 
with  me.  If  I  find  any  trace  or  news,  as  I  undoubtedly 
shall,  I  will  go  directly  to  your  house  and  report.  You 
may  tell  Hiss  Hilman  so  if  you  think  it  will  relieve  her." 

"Clara,  dear!"  exclaimed  Miss  Pembroke,  impulsively, 
"Ralph  is  going  to  find  Ivan,  and  will  come  back  as 
quickly  as  he  can  to  tell  you." 

For  several  minutes  the  bride  had  been  sitting  as  if  pet- 
rified, making  no  answer  to  the  well-meant  questions  of 
her  friends,  unconscious  apparently  of  their  tearful  sym- 
pathy, but  at  this  announcement  her  eyes  were  lit  by  just 
a  gleam  of  gratitude  and  she  tried  to  speak  to  Ralph.  Her 
lips  quivered  with  unformed  words,  and  she  turned  ap- 
pealingly  to  her  uncle. 

"Come,"  she  faltered,  "let  us  go  home." 

Ralph  bowed  and  returned  immediately  to  the  vesti- 
bule, where  Paul  Palovna  waited  for  him.  Both  were  ac- 
costed by  many  of  the  outgoing  audience,  but  they  shook 
their  heads  and  hurried  down  the  steps  and  up  the  street 
to  the  nearest  line  of  cars.  They  said  little  to  each  other 


16  AN  EXPLANATION  SUG GESTED. 

on  the  way  to  Ashburton  Place,  for  they  were  oppressed 
with  forebodings,  and  the  consciousness  that  they  had 
nothing  upon  which  to  base  speculation. 

Once  Ralph  exclaimed  desperately,  "What  can  have 
happened!"  and  Paul  answered,  "He  must  have  fallen 
violently  ill."  Both  hoped  that  this  might  be  the  case, 
and  neither  believed  it.  Mrs.  White  knew  them  both,  for 
they  were  frequent  callers  upon  her  lodger,  and  her  sur- 
prise, therefore,  passed  all  bounds  when  she  met  them 
at  the  door  and  heard  them  ask  as  with  one  voice,  "Where 
isStrobel?" 

"Where?"  she  repeated,  "where  should  he  be?  Haven't 
you  seen  him?" 

"No, "  replied  Ralph,  *' he  did  not  come  to  the  church, 
and  the  rector  dismissed  the  congregation." 

Mrs.  White  threw  up  her  hands  and  sank  into  a  chair. 
"Why — why — "  she  stammered,  "he  left  here  all  dressed 
and  gay  as  could  be." 

"Did  he  seem  quite  well?"  asked  Paul. 

The  good  lady  remembered  her  surprise  and  disappoint- 
ment at  finding  Ivan's  eggs  unbroken,  his  breakfast  almost 
untasted  and  she  told  the  young  men  about  it. 

"That  signifies  nothing,"  said  Paul;  "I  don't  wonder 
he  didn't  care  to  eat.  Did  he  appear  to  be  troubled  about 
anything?" 

"Not  when  he  went  away,"  answered  Mrs.  White;  "I 
thought  he  seemed  put  out  when  the  strange  gentleman 
called." 

"There  we  have  it!"  exclaimed  Paul,  eagerly.  "Who 
was  the  caller  and  what  was  his  business,  if  you  happen 
to  know?" 

"1  don't  know  either.     I  never  saw  the  gentleman  be- 
fore.    He  was  here  only  a  few  minutes.     He  sent  up  his 
card,  and  though  I  looked  at  the  name,  I  couldn't  remem- 
ber it,  for  it  had  a  strange  look,  something  like  yours." 
"May  we  go  to  his  room?  The  card  may  still  be  there." 
"I  don't  think  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  White,  rising  to  follow 


AN  EXPLANATION  SUGGESTED.  17 

the  young  men  who  were  already  half  way  up  the  stairs; 
"I  don't  remember  seeing  it  when  I  cleaned  up." 

When  Ralph  and  Paul  had  vainly  examined  the  catch- 
alls,  the  vases,  and  every  probable  place  into  which  a  vis- 
itor's card  might  have  been  tucked,  the  Russian  asked 
what  had  been  done  with  the  contents  of  the  waste 
basket. 

"My  daughter  Lizzie  helped  me, "  replied  Mrs.  White, 
"and  took  the  waste  papers  downstairs.  I'll  ask  her  to 
find  them  and  look  for  the  card." 

She  left  the  room,  and  while  she  was  gone  the  young 
men  moved  about  nervously,  repeatedly  asking  who  the 
caller  could  have  been,  what  possible  connection  his  call 
could  have  had  with  Ivan's  failure  to  appear  at  his  wed- 
'ding,  and  all  manner  of  questions,  vain  and  irritating,  that 
arise  when  men  are  confronted  by  an  emergency  that 
teems  with  mystery.  Mrs.  White  reported  that  her 
daughter  had  gone  out  and  that  the  waste  paper  from 
Mr.  Strobel's  room  had  been  burned. 

"Lizzie  may  have  seen  that  card,  "she  said,  "and  I'll 
ask  her  when  she  comes  in.  I  can't  think  where  she  can 
have  gone." 

"Was  she  here  when  the  stranger  called?"  asked 
Ralph. 

"Oh,  yes,  and  until  after  Mr.  Strobel  started  away.  I 
didn't  know  that  she  had  left  the  house,  and  I  can't  imag- 
in  what  she  went  out  for.  Perhaps  she'll  be  back  soon." 

"Do  you  know  where  Strobel  hired  his  carriage?" 
inquired  Paul. 

"No,  I  don't,  Lizzie  might,  for  I  remember  he  said 
something  to  her  about  it  the  day  before.  I  wonder 
where  she " 

"He  probably  ordered  his  carriage  from  Clark  & 
Brown, "  said  Ralph  to  Paul.  He  had  no  intention  of  ig- 
noring Mrs.  White's  motherly  anxiety  about  her  daugh- 
ter, but  he  saw  no  reason  for  attaching  significance  to  her 
absence,  and  his  mind  was  burdened  with  a  growing  con- 
viction that  something  serious  had  happened  to  his  friend. 


18  AN  EXPLANATION  SUGGESTED. 

"Suppose  we  make  some  inquiries,"  responded  Paul. 
"If  you  will  go  to  Clark  &  Brown's  office,  I  will  take  a 
run  around  all  the  hotel  cab-stands  in  the  vicinity.  He 
might  have  left  his  order  at  the  Tremont  House  or  in  Bos- 
worth  Street,  you  know." 

"I'm  agreed, "  said  Ralph.  "We  must  get  hold  of  the 
man  who  drove  him.  One  of  us  is  likely  to  succeed.  Sup- 
pose, as  Strobel  may  after  all  turn  up  at  any  minute,  we 
meet  here  as  soon  as  we  can.  I'll  take  in  the  Revere 
House  as  well  as  Clark  &  Brown's." 

"I  wish  you  would  meet  here,  gentlemen,"  interposed 
Mrs.  White;  "Lizzie  may  be  back  then." 

"I  hope  she  will  be,  Mrs.  White,"  said  Ralph.  "She 
may  be  able  to  tell  us  something  about  Strobel.  It  seems 
strange  that  he  hasn't  sent  some  word." 

"I  begin  to  fear  that  we  shall  find  him  at  a  hospital, 
badly  injured,"  remarked  Paul. 

"Oh,  I  hope  not!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  White.  "I  declare! 
it  makes  me  feel  dreadfully  about  Lizzie." 

The  young  men  departed  at  once  upon  their  errands.  It 
was  Paul  Palovna  who  came  upon  a  clew.  He  found 
where  Ivan  had  engaged  his  carriage,  and  he  went  to  the 
livery  stable,  which  was  in  the  South  End,  to  find  what 
had  become  of  the  driver  and  his  passenger.  He  arrived 
there  just  after  the  driver  had  come  in  with  his  damaged 
carriage. 

"I  started  in  with  the  gentleman,"  said  the  driver, 
"but  I  broke  down  at  the  corner  of  Tremont  and  Park 
Streets  and  he  went  along  with  somebody  else." 

"Who  was  it?"  asked  Paul. 

"I  don't  know.  I  never  saw  the  cabman  before." 

"Whose  rig  was  it?" 

"I  don't  know  that,  either.  I  never  saw  the  horse  be- 
fore, and  the  carriage  was  like  hundreds  of  others  that 
you  might  see  in  Boston  any  day." 

Paul  tried  to  think  what  ought  to  be  done  next. 

"Did  Mr.  Strobel  have  a  second  accident?"  asked  one  of 
the  stable  proprietors. 


AN  EXPLANATION  SUG GESTED.  19 

"I  fear  so,"  replied  Paul;  "we  haven't  seen  him,  and  as 
he  was  going  to  his  own  wedding,  his  failure  to  turn  up  is 
rather  alarming." 

"Going  to  be  married,  was  he?"  the  stableman  spoke 
thoughtfully.  "Then  I  guess  you'll  find  that  he  has  been 
made  the  victim  of  a  practical  joke.  I  suppose  he  had 
plenty  of  friends  who  were  aware  of  his  intentions?" 

"Certainly,  but  I  cannot  imagine,"  said  Paul  with  some 
indignation,  "that  any  of  them  would  have  carried  a  joke 
to  the  extent  of  keeing  him  away  from  his  wedding." 

"Perhaps  not, "  admitted  the  stableman,  "but  it  looks 
as  if  some  one  had  deliberately  tried  to  delay  him.  Don't 
you  know  how  the  accident  happened  to  our  carriage?" 

"No.    What  was  the  matter?" 

"Somebody  had  loosened  the  nut  of  the  forward  right 
wheel  so  that  it  was  bound  to  come  off  before  they  had 
gone  very  far.  The  breakdown  was  no  accident." 

"You  are  sure  of  this,  I  suppose,"  exclaimed  Paul;  "but 
when  could  it  have  been  done?" 

"When  Mike  was  waiting  in  front  of  the  door  to  Mr. 
Strobel's  place.  You'd  better  tell  this  gentleman  what 
you  told  me,  Mike." 

"I  waited  there  a  good  half  hour  before  Mr.  Strobel  came 
out,"  replied  the  driver.  "And  while  I  was  there  a  fellow 
crossed  the  street  and  spoke  to  me.  He  stood  in  the  street 
kind  o'  leaning  on  the  wheel.  'Go'n'  to  take  Mr.  Strobel 
to  his  wedding?'  says  he.  'I'm  go'n'  to  take  a  gent  of  that 
name,' says  I  'but  I  don't  know  nothing  'bout  his  wed- 
ding.' 'That's  what  'tis,'  says  he,  'and  a  very  fine  man  he 
is,  and  a  fine  day  it  is  for  the  ceremony;  and  that's  a  fine 
horse  you  have, '  and  all  that  kind  of  palaver,  till  I 
thought  he'd  talk  me  blind.  After  a  while  he  said  good- 
morning,  and  went  on,  bad  luck  to  him." 

Paul  looked  at  the  stableman  in  surprise.  "Could  the 
nut  have  been  removed  then  without  the  driver  knowing 
it?  "he  asked. 

;'Yes,  but  it  wasn't  necessarily  removed.  It  may  have 
been  started.  You  get  up  on  the  seat  and  sit  back  indiffer- 


20  AN  EXPLANA  TION  S  UG  GESTED. 

ently,  as  a  driver  would  be  likely  to  sit.  Just  try  it.  I 
want  you  to  be  satisfied." 

Paul  climbed  to  the  driver's  seat  on  the  coupe,  and  the 
stableman  leaned  over  the  wheel. 

" You  see,"  said  the  latter,  "unless  you  bent  over  and 
looked  down  sharply  you  wouldn't  make  out  what  I  was 
up  to,  and  not  having  any  reason  to  suspect  a  trick,  you'd 
likely  sit  still;  more  likely  than  not,  if  you  was  an  ordi- 
nary driver,  you'd  look  the  other  way  most  of  the  time; 
and — but  I  don't  need  to  talk  any  longer  for  here  is  the 
nut!"  and  he  held  up  a  small  wrench  in  which  was  the 
nut  of  the  wheel  by  which  he  was  standing. 

"Great  Scott!"  exclaimed  Paul,  smiling,  in  spite  of  his 
anxiety,  at  the  dexterous  way  in  which  the  stableman  had 
proved  that  the  trick  might  have  been  done.  "  What  sort 
of  man  was  this,  Mike,  who  talked  to  you?" 

"I  dunuo,  sir.    Medium  sized,  young,  I  should  say." 

"Would  you  know  him  again?" 

"I  would  that!" 

"By  the  way,  did  you  see  anybody  call  at  the  house 
while  you  were  waiting?" 

"Yes,  a  gentleman  went  in.  I  heard  him  ask  for  Mr. 
Strobel,  and  he  came  out  again  inside  of  five  minutes." 

"What  was  he  like  and  where  did  he  go?" 

"I  couldn't  tell  you  what  he  was  like.  I  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  him.  He  went  away  toward  Somerset  Street.  The 
fellow  at  the  wheel  was  talking  to  me  as  he  went  along." 

This  was  all  the  information  of  value  that  Paul  could 
obtain,  although  he  asked  many  more  questions.  He 
found  Ralph  waiting  for  him  in  Ivan's  room,  and  Mrs. 
White  was  there,  overcome  with  anxiety  on  account  of  the 
continued  absence  of  her  daughter. 

"I  think,"  said  Ralph  when  he  had  heard  his  friend's  re- 
port, "that  we'd  better  speak  of  this  at  police  headquar- 
ters." 

"Are  you  going  to  say  anything  about  Lizzie?"  asked 
Mrs.  White. 


AN  EXPLANATION  SUGGESTED.  21 

'Certainly  not,  unless  you  wish  it.  She  will  doubtless 
come  in  before  evening." 

"I  don't  know,"  murmured  the  landlady,  despairingly; 
"she  didn't  say  a  word  about  going  out,  and  I'm  dread- 
fully afraid!  I  can't  find  her  little  traveling  bag " 

She  stopped  suddenly  as  Paul  wheeled  about  and 
glanced  at  her  with  a  startled  glance.  There  was  a  mo- 
ment of  silence,  and  then  the  Russian  said  quietly :  "I 
will  come  back  early  in  the  evening,  Mrs.  White,  and  if 
your  daughter  has  not  appeared,  I'll  help  you  to  make  in- 
quiries. We  must  look  after  Strobel  now." 

The  young  men  reported  the  circumstances  at  police 
headquarters  and  then  went  to  Roxbury.  It  was  five 
o'clock  when  they  arrived  at  Mr.  Pembroke's  house,  and 
they  cherished  a  hope  that  some  word  from  Ivan,  if  not 
Ivan  himself,  would  be  found  there.  They  were  disap- 
pointed. Louise  Pembroke  told  them  that  nothing  had  oc- 
curred except  that  Clara  had  succumbed  to  the  shock  and 
strain,  and  was  under  the  care  of  a  physician. 

"About  an  hour  ago  she  broka  down  and  cried,  "said 
Louise,  "and  the  physician  said  it  was  the  best  thing  that 
could  have  happened  to  her.  He  would  have  been  afraid 
to  have  Ivan  return  before  that.  Now  she  is  not  in  any 
immediate  danger." 

"Are  you  going  to  tell  her  what  we  have  done'?' asked 
Ralph. 

"Yes.  I'll  do  so  now." 

Louise  found  her  cousin  calm  and  hopeful. 

"Ralph  has  come  back,"  said  Clara.  "I  heard  the  bell, 
and  knew  it  must  be  he.  Well?" 

"Ralph  says,  dear,"  replied  Louise,  "that  Ivan  started 
for  the  church  in  a  carriage,  and  that  there  was  a  break- 
down on  the  way  that  appears  to  have  been  caused  by  a 
trick.  He  then  took  another  carriage,  and  after  that  they 
do  not  know  what  became  of  him." 

"Lou, "  said  the  sufferer,  "I  suppose  people  would  ex- 
pect  that  I  should  feel  humiliation  most  of  all,  but  I  don't, 
and  if  I  did  I  should  no  longer  feel  it  now  that  I  know 


22  AN  EXPLANATION  SUGGESTED. 

Ivan  started  for  the  church.  Don't  you  see?  He  meant  to 
come,  of  course !  Something  dreadful  has  happened  to 
him — "  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  she  paused  a 
moment  before  continuing:  "There  must  be  more  details, 
of  course,  but  I  am  not  well  enough  yet  to  hear  them. 
Ask  Ralph  and  Paul  to  come  to-morow  morning,  will  you, 
please?  I  must  talk  with  them." 

"I  will,"  replied  Louise;  "Ivan  may  come  before  that." 

Ralph  went  to  his  home  immediately  after  leaving  Mr. 
Pembroke's,  but  Paul,  who  had  no  other  home  than  a 
furnished  room  in  a  lodging  house,  returned  according 
to  his  promise  to  see  Mrs.  White.  He  felt  that  there 
might  be  a  chance  that  the  daughter,  Lizzie,  could  throw 
some  light  on  Ivan's  movements,  but  he  had  no  doubt 
whatever  that  she  herself  had  returned.  He  reached  the 
house  just  as  a  postman  was  leaving  it.  Mrs,  White  stood 
in  the  hall,  the  door  remaining  opeD,  nervously  opening 
a  letter.  When  she  had  read  it  she  screamed,  and  would 
have  fallen  to  the  floor  had  not  Paul  sprung  forward  to 
catch  her.  She  recovered  in  a  moment  sufficiently  to  sob: 

"I'm  so  glad  you've  come.  Lizzie  has  gone!  Read  what 
she  says." 

Paul  took  the  letter  which  she  tremblingly  handed  him 
and  read: 

"DEAR  MOTHER:  I  am  going  away  and  shall  not  come  back  for  a 
long  time.  Do  not  be  anxious,  and  do  not  try  to  find  me.  You  ate 
not  to  blame  for  anything,  and  I  cannot  now  tell  you  why  I  go. 
Some  time  I  may  do  so,  and  I  may  write  to  you.  I  don't  know  yet. 
Do  not  think  unkindly  of  me.  You  will  know  some  time  that  it  is 
best.  I  love  you  and " 

Two  words  here  had  been  laboriously  scratched  out. 
Then  came  the  signature,  "Lizzie."  Paul  made  out  the 
erased  words  to  be  "I  love." 

In  spite  of  himself  a  dreadful  fear  came  over  him,  a 
fear  of  something  more  painful  for  all  of  Ivan's  friends 
to  bear  than  an  accident,  no  matter  how  serious. 


AN  IMPERFECT  VISION.  23 


CHAPTER  III. 

AN  IMPERFECT  VISION. 

Ivan  Strobel  had  been  a  lodger  in  Mrs.  White's  house 
for  more  than  two  years.  During  the  greater  part  of  that 
period  he  had  been  the  only  lodger,  and  from  the  begin- 
ning his  relations  with  his  landladjr  had  been  more  as  if 
he  were  a  friend  of  the  family  than  merely  a  tenant.  His 
evenings  were  not  infrequently  spent  in  Mrs.  White's  sit- 
ting-room, where  his  strongly  domestic  nature  found  some 
comfort  in  reading  aloud  to  the  old  lady  and  her  daughter, 
or  in  playing  cards,  or  in  telling  them  stories  of  European 
life.  Sometimes  his  friends  would  call,  and  find  him  there 
instead  of  in  his  own  room,  and  more  than  once  he  had 
been  the  target  for  good-humored  chaffing  relative  to  his 
supposed  fondness  for  the  landlady's  daughter. 

On  such  occasions  Strobel  laughed  lightly,  as  if  it  were 
out  of  the  question  that  anybody  should  seriously  harbor 
a  supposition  that  he  was  in  love  with  Lizzie.  That  was  in 
the  comparatively  early  days  of  his  residence  there ;  and 
one  afternoon,  about  a  year  before  his  eventful  wedding 
morning,  Ralph  Harmon  and  Paul  Palovna  called  together 
and  found  him  in  his  own  quarters,  serving  Russian  tea  to 
Mrs.  White  and  her  daughter.  He  was  evidently  delighted 
to  see  his  friends,  and  he  promptly  set  glasses  of  the  fra- 
grant, hot  beverage  before  them.  Mrs.  White  was  enthusi- 
astic in  her  praise  of  the  tea,  as  well  she  might  be,  for 
Russians  are  past-masters  in  the  art  of  tea-brewing,  and 
Ivan  was  one  of  the  most  skillful ;  and  she  slyly  intimated 
that  the  woman  who  would  have  the  first  place  in  his 
future  household  would  do  well  to  place  him  in  charge  of 
the  kitchen. 

Ivan  smiled  and  blushed  as  if  pleased  at  the  allusion, 


24  AN  IMPERFECT  VISION. 

and  while  his  friends  commended  the  idea  with  nois.y 
laughter,  Miss  Lizzie  sat  silent,  sipping  her  tea  with  down- 
cast eyes.  Shortly  afterward  the  ladies  withdrew,  and 
Palovna  immediately  began  to  tease  Strobel  about  Lizzie. 

"On  my  word,  Ivan,"  he  cried,  "you  begin  very  badly. 
If  you  show  her  what  a  fine  hand  you  have  for  kitchen- 
work,  you'll  never  have  any  time  to  yourself  after  you're 
married.  It's  a  fine  thing  to  serve  tea  to  your  friends 
when  you're  a  bachelor,  but  fancy  a  man  setting  the  ket- 
tle to  boil  for  his  wife!  Great  Scott!  what  a  picture!" 

Both  visitors  laughed  heartily,  but  Strobel,  with  a  grave 
smile,  held  up  one  hand  deprecatingly. 

"I  don't  mind  your  raillery  in  the  least,"  he  said,  "but 
it  does  injustice  to  the  young  lady  who  is  the  innocent 
subject  of  it  rather  than  myself.  I'm  glad  you  came  in  as 
you  did,  for  I  have  something  to  tell  you,  and,  in  fact,  it 
was  to  tell  Mrs.  White  and  Lizzie  the  same  thing  that  I  in- 
vited them  to  take  tea  with  me.  I  am  engaged  to  Miss 
Hilman." 

"I'm  mighty  glad  to  hear  it,  and  I  congratulate  you," 
exclaimed  Ralph,  jumping  up  and  grasping  Ivan  by  the 
hand. 

"And  I,  too,"  said  Paul,  not  less  sincerely;  "pardon  my 
joking.  I  hadn't  suspected  that  the  wind  blew  from  that 
direction.  When  is  it  to  be?" 

Then  Strobel  told  them  about  his  plans,  and  from  that 
day  until  this  minute,  when  Paul  stood  by  the  weeping 
landlady,  with  her  daughter's  incoherent  letter  in  his 
hand,  he  had  never  associated  Ivan  and  Lizzie  in  any 
other  way  than  as  ordinary  friends.  When,  earlier  in  the 
afternoon,  Mrs.  White  had  said  something  that  seemed  to 
suggest  the  possibility  that  they  had  gone  away  together, 
Paul's  indignation  had  been  aroused,  and  it  was  with  an 
effort  that  he  had  mastered  his  tongue,  which  fairly 
burned  to  deny  such  an  outrageous  assumption.  He  had 
dismissed  the  thought  later,  with  the  conviction  that 
Mrs.  WThite  could  not  have  realized  the  true  significance 
of  her  words. 


AN  IMPERFECT  VISION.  25 

Now,  utterly  at  a  loss  to  account  for  his  friends'  ab- 
sence, be  was  compelled  to  face  any  suggestion  that  arose 
and  make  the  best  of  it. 

"There  is  at  least  some  comfort  in  this,  Mrs.  White,"  he 
said,  unsteadily;  "you  know  that  your  daughter  is  alive, 
and  she  says  she  may  write  to  you.  She  would  not  have 
written  this  had  she  meant  to  hide  herself  completely 
from  you." 

The  mother's  anguish  was  not  to  be  tempered  with  this 
argument.  The  poignant  fact  remained  that  her  daughter 
had  gone  away,  deserted  her  home,  and  neglected  delib- 
erately to  take  her  mother  into  her  confidence. 

"How  could  she?"  moaned  Mrs.  White;  "why,  oh,  why 
has  she  done  this?" 

Paul  had  hard  questions  to  ask,  hard  for  him  as  well  as 
for  her. 

"Mrs.  White,"  he  said,  "you  have  shown  me  Lizzie's 
letter;  will  you  let  me  help  you  if  "I  can?" 

"Yes,  yes! "she  answered  eagerly,  raising  her  tearful 
eyes.  The  very  proffer  of  sympathy  and  assistance  helped 
to  restore  her  to  some  degree  of  composure,"  and  she 
opened  the  door  to  the  sitting-ioom.  "I  forgot  where  we 
were, "  she  said  apologetically;  "please  come  in  and  sit 
down." 

Paul  complied,  and,  still  with  the  letter  in  his  hand,  be- 
gan: "I  shall  have  to  ask  questions  that  would  be  imper- 
tinent if  you  had  not  said  that  I  might  try  to  help  you. 
Do  you — was  Lizzie  engaged?" 

"Oh,  no!"  replied  Mrs.  White,  with  a  little  gasp;  "what 
made  you  think  so?" 

"I  don't  think  so,  and  what  I  really  tried  to  ask  was 
whether  she  were  in  love  with  anybody?" 

Mrs.  White  looked  doubtfully  at  him.  Her  eyes  were 
dry,  now,  and  she  toyed  nervously  with  her  apron. 

"My  daughter  didn't  tell  me  she  was  going  away,"  she 
answered  slowly  after  a  minute;  "if  she  wouldn't  tell  me 
that,  how  should  you  expect  that  she  would  speak  to  me 
of  her  love — if  she  did  love  anybody?" 


26  AN  IMPERFECT  VISION. 

Paul  was  somewhat  nettled  at  this  apparent  effort  to 
juggle  with  his  question.  The  situation  seemed  to  him  too 
serious  to  admit  of  anything  but  the  most  complete  frank- 
ness. 

"I  don't  ask  how  you  know,  or  why  you  don't,  Mrs. 
White,"  he  said  as  gently  as  he  could;  "I  simply  asked  for 
a  statement  of  fact." 

The  landlady  looked  down  at  the  floor,  evidently  trying 
to  frame  an  answer.  Paul  would  have  dropped  the  matter 
right  there,  disgusted  at  her  reticence  if  not  her  indirec- 
tion, had  he  not  been  determined  to  learn  everything  pos- 
sible that  might  throw  light  upon  the  fate  of  his  friends. 
So  he  began  on  another  tack. 

"Weren't  you  invited  to  Strobel's  wedding,  Mrs. 
White?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  she  replied  promptly,  not  suspecting  the  ulti- 
mate aim  of  the  question;  "both  of  us  received  invita- 
tions." 

"Why  didn't  you  go?" 

"Lizzie  didn't  want  to  go.  She  said  weddings  always 
made  her  feel  solemn,  and  I  didn't  want  to  go  without 
her." 

"Wasn't  there  a  deeper  reason,  Mrs.  White,  for  your 
daughter's  reluctance  to  go  to  Ivan  Strobel's  wedding?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Mr.  Palovna,"  said  the 
landlady,  glancing  at  him  and  averting  her  eyes. 

Paul  wanted  to  tell  her  that  she  was  trying  to  dodge 
him,  but  he  controlled  himself  and  said: 

"I  mean  that  in  my  opinion  your  daughter  was  hope- 
lessly in  love  with  Ivan." 

This  statement  did  not  provoke  the  storm  that  Paul  had 
expected.  Mrs.  White's  reserve  had  prepared  him  for  an 
outburst  of  denials,  indignant  tears  and  the  like,  but  the 
old  lady  sat  very  still,  her  hands  clasped  upon  her  lap, 
and  after  a  little  silence  she  spoke  dreamily : 

"Lizzie  never  told  me,  but  I  guessed  as  much  long  ago, 
poor,  dear  girl!" 

Paul's  heart  sank  as  he  felt  his  fears  growing  to  con  vie. 


AN  IMPERFECT  VISION.  27 

tion  that  the  flight  of  Lizzie  White  was  closely  connected 
with  the  disappearance  of  Ivan  Strobel.  He  was  not  dis- 
loyal to  his  friend  even  in  his  thoughts;  he  kept  insisting 
to  himself  that  Ivan  was  not  the  man  to  play  all  his  friends 
double,  but  even  as  he  rebelled  against  this  possible  ex- 
planation of  the  matter,  reason  interposed  its  stern  voice 
to  say  that  if,  after  all,  Strobel  had  discovered  that  he 
loved  Lizzie  and  not  Clara,  this  was  the  probable  course 
he  would  take  to  avoid  facing  the  comments  and  criticisms 
of  his  friends;  and  although  he  repelled  the  explanation 
with  all  his  will,  he  nevertheless  felt  a  dreadful  sense  of 
doubt. 

"Mrs.  White,"  he  said  gravely,  "have  you  any  reason 
to  think  th.it  Strobel  and  your  daughter  went  away  to- 
gether?" 

The  landlady  started  as  if  she  had  been  shot. 

"Of  course  not!"  she  cried;  "how  could  you  think  such 

a  thing?  Why  should  you  insult  my  poor  child "  and 

she  broke  down  and  sobbed  bitterly. 

Palovna  was  miserable.  He  saw  that  he  had  utterly 
misinterpreted  Mrs.  White's  reluctance  in  answering 
his  questions ;  that,  far  from  suspecting  that  Lizzie's  de- 
parture might  be  an  elopement  with  Ivan,  she  had  in- 
stinctively tried  to  guard  her  daughter's  secret. 

"lam  exceedingly  sorry  that  I  have  hurt  you,"  said  Paul, 
contritely,  "I  don't  think,  cannot  think  that  they  have 
gone  together;  but,  you  see,  I  am  in  such  a  maze  of 
anxiety  about  Strobel,  everything  is  so  strange  and  uncer- 
tain, that  I — I  hardly  knew  what  I  said." 

He  paused,  and  Mrs.  White,  still  sobbing,  uttered  some 
words  of  which  the  only  one  he  understood  was  "cruel, " 
and  he  promptly  accepted  it  as  applied  to  himself. 

"I  can  only  repeat  that  I  am  sorry,"  he  said.  "Here  is 
your  letter.  I  fear  I  can  be  of  no  help  to  you  unless  you 
want  me  to  take  some  message  for  you." 

"No — you  cannot  do  anything  now — I  know  you  didn't 
mean  it.  Please  come  again  to-morrow — when  I  can  think 
— please,  Mr.  Palovna." 


28  AN  IMPERFECT  VISION. 

So  Paul  left  the  house,  wondering  whether  Mrs.  White 
felt  any  unhappier  than  himself. 

He  turned  into  Pemberton  Square,  and  went  as  far  as 
the  door  to  police  headquarters,  halted  abruptly  and 
turned  away.  He  could  not  be  the  one  to  fasten  a  suspi- 
cion of  such  a  character  upon  his  missing  friend.  If  it 
were  true  that  he  had  eloped,  that  ugly  fact  would  be  es- 
tablished soon  enough  without  his  giving  any  hints  to  the 
police  detectives  who  were  assigned  to  hunt  for  Ivan. 

The  doctor  had  ordered  Clara  Hilman  to  bed,  and  under 
the  first  prostration  of  the  blow  she  had  willingly  obeyed; 
but  as  evening  came  on  and  her  mind  cleared,  she  felt 
stronger,  and  at  supper  time  ghe  arose  and  dressed.  She 
did  not  go  down  to  the  dining-room,  and  Louise  brought 
delicacies  to  her  chamber.  She  wished  that  Ralph  and 
Paul  would  return,  for  she  felt  that  she  could  talk  with 
them  now,  and  she  longed  intensely  for  any  word,  how- 
ever insignificant,  concerning  her  lover's  movements. 
Louise  sat  with  her,  making  well-intended  efforts  to  dis- 
tract her  attention  from  the  subject  that  was  so  terribly 
engrossing,  and  offering  the  comfort  of  hopeful  assur- 
ances when  it  was  evident  that  Clara  could  think  of 
nothing  else. 

The  fact  was  that  Louise  disturbed  Clara.  Her  thoughts 
were  fixed  in  their  own  channel,  and  so  obstinately  clung 
there  that  it  grew  wearisome  to  attend  to  the  interrup- 
tions that  Louise  was  constantly  making.  So  Clara  said  at 
last: 

"I  think,  dear,  if  you  will  forgive  me,  I  would  like  to 
be  alone  a  little  while.  I  will  call  if  I  want  anything." 

"To  be  sure,  Clara,"  responded  Louise,  rising  at  once 
and  putting  her  arms  affectionately  around  her  cousin ;  "I 
will  go  to  my  own  room,  and  will  come  the  minute  you 
need  me.  Shall  I  get  you  anything  to  read?" 

"No,  I  cannot  do  anything  but  think,  and  I  must  think. 
Don't  be  alarmed.  I  am  not  going  to  let  myself  become 
ill." 

There  was  a  faint,  sweet  smile  upon  her  sad  lips  as  she 


AN  IMPERFECT  VISION.  29 

spolie,  and,  left  to  herself,  she  sat  leaning  slightly  for- 
ward, her  chin  upon  one  hand,  the  other  clinched  upon 
her  lap,  gazing  intently  at  the  wall  which  she  saw  not.  In 
its  place  was  the  carriage  in  front  of  Mrs.  White's  house, 
and  as  she  watched  it  she  saw  the  house  door  open  and 
Ivan,  her  Ivan,  come  forth.  She  saw  him  turn  to  say 
good-by  to  the  kind-hearted  landlady,  saw  the  happy 
smile  upon  his  face,  saw  him  enter  the  carriage,  saw  it 
start  slowly  away. 

This  much  of  h^r  lover's  wedding  journey  was  as  clearly 
before  her  as  if  it  were  now  occurring,  and  she  were  at  a 
window  in  the  house  across  the  way  from  Mrs.  White's  in 
Ashburton  Place.  Her  nerves  strained  to  their  utmost 
tension,  she  tried  to  follow  the  carriage.  She  could  see 
that  it  turned  into  Somerset  Street,  but  when  it  seemed 
to  be  at  Beacon  sl\e  could  not  tell  which  way  it  went. 
That  it  was  still  moving  was  apparent,  but  there  was  a 
confusion  of  vehicles  and  persons,  streets  and  buildings, 
there  was  a  pause — somewhere — was  Ivan  getting  out? 
Was  that  he  taking  another  carriage?  Oh !  why  was  not 
Paul  here  to  tell  her  just  what  happened  at  this  point, 
wherever  it  was?  Why  had  she  not  heard  his  report  when 
he  was  there  to  make  it? 

Suddenly  the  confusion  gave  way,  and  the  familiar  wall 
was  before  her,  but  still  she  saw  it  not.  Now  she  was  lis- 
tening. Did  she  hear  her  lover's  name?  Was  it  spoken  in 
anger?  It  must  be!  it  must  be!  They  were  speaking  of 
him;  who  were  they?  In  this  house?  where  else  if  she 
heard  it?  Could  it  be  that  she  had  heard  nothing?  To  her 
ear  there  was  no  tangible  sound  save  the  ticking  of  the 
clock  on  the  mantel.  Clara  arose  and  crossed  the  room, 
staggering  with  weakness,  and  placed  her  hand  upon  the 
door.  One  instant  she  waited  as  if  in  doubt,  and  then  she 
opened  it  very  softly.  Yes !  there  were  voices  below ;  they 
were  in  the  library ;  that  was  her  uncle  speaking.  Had 
she  a  right  to  listen?  She  stole  to  the  head  of  the  stairs 
and  looked  down.  The  library  door  was  closed.  The  voice 
was  an  unintelligible  murmur,  nothing  more. 


30  AN  IMPERFECT  VISION. 

Down  the  stairs  she  crept  and  came  to  the  library  door. 

"Are  you  money-mad?"  It  was  her  uncle  who  spoke. 
"Don't  you  know  that  it  hasn't  come,  that  such  a  thing 
can't  bo  effected  in  a  moment?" 

"And  I  tell  you,  Mat  Pembroke,"  said  a  harsh  voice, 
"that  you've  got " 

The  voice  suddenly  stopped,  and  the  speaker,  the  infirm 
old  man  who  had  arrived  late  at  the  church  while  the 
wedding  party  was  waiting  in  the  vestibule,  half  rose 
from  his  big  chair  and  pointed  with  a  bony,  trembling 
hand  over  Mr.  Pembroke's  shoulder. 

Mr.  Pembroke  turned  about  and  saw  Clara  Hilman  with 
wide-open  eyes  and  pale  face  standing  just  within  the 
doorway. 

"Forgive  me,  uncle,"  she  said  in  a  voice  scarce  above  a 
whisper;  "I  thought  you  were  speaking  of  Ivan,  and  I — I 
came  down  to  say  that  I  am  going  to  find  him." 

She  swayed  slightly  as  she  finished,  and  Mr.  Pembroke 
ran  forward  and  took  her  in  his  arms. 


CLARA'S  SEARCH  BEGINS.  31 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CLARA'S  SEARCH  BEGINS. 

Clara  had  not  fainted  in  her  uncle's  arms,  but  she 
nestled  against  him  quivering  and  sobbing;  and  again  it 
was  fortunate  for  her  that  the  excited,  pent-up  forces  of 
her  brain  had  broken  through  in  a  flood  of  tears. 

"You  see,  Dexter!"  cried  Mr.  Pembroke  in  broken  ac- 
cents, "how  my  poor  girl  suffers.  There,  there,  Clara, 
better  get  back  to  your  bed  and  try  to  sleep.  I  thought 
Louise  was  looking  after  you." 

"She  has  been  with  me,"  replied  Clara,  "but  I  sent  her 
away.  I  wanted  to  think.  Has  nothing  been  heard  from 
Ivan?" 

"Nothing  yet,  my  dear.  You  shall  know  it  as  soon  as 
we  do  even  if  it  comes  at  three  in  the  morning." 

Attracted  by  her  cousin's  voice,  Louise  appeared  at  this 
moment  and  led  Clara  upstairs,  scolding  her  gently  for 
having  left  her  room.  Clara  was  greatly  subdued,  and 
urged  no  longer  to  be  left  alone.  Through  the  rest  of  the 
evening  she  sat  quietly  listening  to  Louise,  and  feeling 
no  return  of  that  tensity  of  the  nerves  that  had  preceded 
and  accompanied  her  waking  dream. 

In  the  morning  she  was  better,  stronger  in  every  way. 
She  met  her  uncle  and  cousin  at  breakfast,  and  although 
she  was  very  quiet  she  seemed  more  like  her  natural  self 
than  they  had  expected.  Every  newspaper  had  something 
to  say  about  the  disppearance  of  Ivan  Strobel,  and  the  re- 
porters, apparently,  had  interviewed  everybody  directly  in- 
terested in  him  except  the  unhappy  bride  herself.  The 
newspapers  were  in  a  pile  by  her  uncle's  plate  when  she 
surprised  him  by  entering  the  room  and  taking  her  place 
at  the  table. 


32  CLARA'S  SEARCH  BEGINS. 

"I'd  like  to  see  the  papers,  uncle, "  she  said  after  re- 
sponding to  his  greetings. 

Mr.  Pembroke  glanced  nervously  at  his  Daughter,  and 
laid  his  hand  irresolutely  on  the  pile. 

"I  am  afraid  you  won't  find  anything  of  comfort  in 
them,  my  dear,'*  he  said. 

"No  matter,"  she  replied,  "I  don't  expect  to.  Don't  try 
to  keep  them  from  me.  I  shall  get  them  later  if  I  do  not 
read  them  now." 

Mr.  Pembroke  passed  them  all  to  her  except  one  which 
he  opened  and  pretended  to  read  himself.  He  had  already 
been  through  it,  and  he  did  not  intend,  if  he  could  help  it, 
that  she  should  see  it. 

Clara  intently  read  the  account  of  the  interrupted  wed- 
ding in  the  first  paper  she  took  up,  pausing  only  once  to 
exclaim,  "Then  the  reporters  were  here  last  evening!" 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Pembroke,  "they  were  coming  and  go- 
ing until  long  after  midnight." 

"I  almost  wish  I  could  have  seen  some  of  them,"  mur- 
mured Clara  as  she  continued  to  read.  The  report  told  with 
fair  accuracy  about  the  break-down  at  Park  and  Tremont 
Streets  and  the  explanation  of  it  given  by  the  stableman. 
Mrs.  White  was  quoted,  and  as  much  as  the  reporter 
could  imagine  was  made  of  the  visit  to  Strobel  by  the 
mysterious  stranger.  Then  there  were  interviews  with  the 
missing  nam's  employers,  State  Street  bankers,  and  the 
highly  gratifying  intelligence  was  set  forth  that  there  was 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  Strobel  had  tampered  with  tho 
funds  or  in  any  way  betrayed  his  trust.  Clara  blushed 
with  indignation  as  she  read  that  the  books  would  be  ex- 
amined in  the  morning,  with  a  view  to  discovering  whether 
Strobel  had  been  guilty  of  any  irregularities. 

"The  idea  that  Ivan  should  be  suspected  of  dishonesty!" 
exclaimed  Clara,  laying  the  paper  down  and  taking  up 
another. 

"People  will  think  anything  and  everything,"  said  her 
uncle,  "and  you  must  be  prepared  for  the  worst  insinua- 
tions and  speculations." 


CLARA'S  SEARCH  BEGINS.  33 

Clara  read  the  next  account  in  silence.  It  was  much 
longer  than  the  first,  and  a  great  deal  of  attention  and  im- 
agination had  been  devoted  to  the  romantic  aspect  of  the 
situation.  Clara  was  described  as  utterly  prostrated  by  the 
blow,  dangerously  ill,  refusing  to  see  her  most  intimate 
friends;  and  the  intended  union  of  the  beautiful  orphan 
with  the  Russian  exile  was  dwelt  upon  with  appropriate 
grace  and  picturesqueness.  She  blushed  for  herself  this 
time  and  laid  the  paper  down  impatiently. 

"I  shall  show  them,"  she  said,  "if  they  pay  any  further 
attention  to  the  affair,  that  I  am  not  prostrated  by  the 
blow,  hard  as  it  is." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Clara?"  asked  Mr.  Pembroke  and 
Louise  together. 

"Just  what  I  said  last  evening,  uncle.  I  am  going  to 
find  Ivan." 

"Why!  dear,  what  can  you  do?"  cried  Louise,  pity- 
ingly. 

"Do?  I  don't  know  yet  what  the  details  will  be,  but  I 
can  search  for  him.  What  better,  what  else  could  I  do?  If 
we  had  been  married,  and  Ivan  had  disappeared,  would  it 
not  be  my  duty  as  well  as  my  inclination  to  turn  the 
world  upside  down  to  find  him?  Should  it  make  any  dif- 
ference just  because  the  formal  word  had  not  been  spoken 
that  was  to  make  us  husband  and  wife?" 

Her  voice  trembled  a  little  at  the  end  of  this  brief 
speech,  and  her  eyes  were  moist,  but  she  took  up  a  third 
paper  resolutely  and  began  to  read.  She  had  debated  her 
situation  thoroughly  in  the  long  hours  of  the  previous 
day  and  evening,  and  her  determination  to  devote  herself 
to  the  search  for  her  lover  was  not  the  effect  of  a  tempo 
rary  hallucination.  Her  uncle  and  cousin  said  nothing  for 
the  present  either  to  dissuade  or  encourage  her,  Louise,  at 
least,  feeling  that  in  due  time  Clara  would  see  the  futility 
of  attempting  anything  on  her  own  account  as  long  as  ex- 
perienced detectives  were  in  the  field.  Mr.  Pembroke  left 
the  room  for  a  moment,  and  when  he  returned  the  paper 
he  had  been  reading  was  folded  and  hidden  in  his  pocket. 


34  CLARA'S  SEARCH  BEGINS. 

There  was  still  another  before  Clara,  and  when   she  had 
read  it  she  pushed  them  all  away,  saying: 

"They're  as  much  alike  as  if  the  same  man  had  written 
them  all." 

Mr.  Pembroke  was  relieved  that  she  did  not  notice  that 
one  of  the  morning  papers  was  not  included  in  the  lot  she 
had  read. 

Hardly  had  they  finished  breakast  when  the  bell  rang, 
and  a  reporter  for  an  evening  paper  inquired  for  news  of 
Mr.  Strobel  and  Miss  Hilman's  health.  Mr.  Pembroke 
frowned  with  annoyance,  but  Clara  was  for  seeing  the 
young  man. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  pictured  as  a  useless,  waiting,  tear- 
drenched  weakling!"  she  cried  when  uncle  and  cousin 
remonstrated.  "Publicity?  notoriety?  what  could  be 
wors«  than  the  notoriety  I  have  already  acquired?  Let  me 
see  him,  please,  so  that  he  may  have  no  excuse  for  describ- 
ing me  as  a  broken-down,  useless  incumbrance. " 

"I  will  speak  to  him  first,"  said  Mr.  Pembroke,  hastily. 
44  Wait  here  a  minute.  I'll  send  for  you  when  1  have  heard 
what  it  is  he  wants." 

So  Clara  and  Louise  remained  at  the  breakfast  table, 
and  a  few  minutes  later  Mr.  Pembroke  opened  the  door  and 
said  with  an  assumption  of  cheerfulness: 

4' There!  you  see,  sir,  the  young  lady  is  bearing  her 
trouble  more  bravely  than  the  morning  papers  announced. 
This  is  Miss  Hilman,  Mr.  Shaughnessy,  and  my  daughter, 
Louise." 

Mr.  Shaughnessy,  thus  introduced,  entered  the  room 
bowing  with  old-fashioned  extravagance.  His  head  was 
bald  as  an  egg,  and  his  face  was  three-fourths  concealed 
by  a  grizzly  beard.  The  4 'young  man"  could  no  longer 
look  forward  to  his  sixtieth  birthday.  He  wore  gold- 
bowed  eyeglasses,  and  in  one  hand  he  held  hat  and  note- 
book and  in  the  other  a  stub  of  a  pencil. 

'4Char-r  med,  ladies,"  he  said,  "to  see  you  looking  so 
fine  upon  this  gr-rievous  occasion.  May  I  ask,  Miss  Hil- 
man,  how  you  passed  the  night?" 


CLARA'S  SEARCH  BEGINS.  35 

What  with  surprise  at  her  uncle's  maneuver  in  bring- 
ing the  reporter  to  the  breakfast  room,  and  amusement  at 
the  courtly  yet  business-like  manners  of  the  "young 
man,"  Clara  could  not  have  repressed  a  smile  if  she  had 
tried ;  and  before  she  could  relpy,  Mr.  Shaughnessy  had 
whipped  his  note-book  to  the  top  of  his  hat  and  written 
the  significant  memonic,  "smile." 

"I  slept  quite  as  usual,  thank  you,"  replied  Clara. 

"I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,"  said  Shaughnessy; 
"health,  Miss  Hilman,  is  the  greatest  pr-rop  in  time  of 
trouble.  Have  you  any  obser-rvation  to  make  upon  Mr. 
Strobel's  absence?  Any  theor-ry  to  account  for  it?" 

"No  theory,  Mr.  Shaughnessy,  though  I  hope  to  have 
one  some  time  later  in  the  day.  I  should  like  to  have  you 
tell  your  readers  that  I  have  absolute  faith  in  Mr.  Strobel, 
and  that  I  expect  any  theory  as  to  his  disappearance  to 
accord  with  honorable  conduct  on  his  part." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  reporter,  scribbling  away  for  dear 
life,  that  he  might  not  lose  a  word  of  this  important  utter- 
ance. "Do  I  understand  you  to  say  that  you  expect  to 
have  news  of  your—Mr.  Strobel  before  the  day  is  over?" 

"I  shall  devote  all  my  time  to  searching  for  him." 

"Clara!"  exclaimd  Louise,  while  Mr.  Pembroke  turned 
away  with  a  despairing  shrug. 

Shaughnessy  looked  doubtingly  at  Mr.  Pembroke,  and 
then  said: 

"May  I  have  the  honor  of  calling  on   you  later,  then?" 

"I  shall  be  glad  at  any  time,"  replied  Clara,  "to  give 
you  any  information  in  my  power." 

Shaughnessy  made  a  note. 

"I  hope  you  will  pardon  me  seeming  imper-rtinence, 
Miss  Hilman,"  he  continued,  "but  me  city  editor  com- 
manded me  to  obtain  photographs  of  yourself  and  Mr. 
Strobel." 

Louise  sighed  and  looked  genuinely  alarmed ;  but  Clara 
thought  a  moment,  and  answered  that  she  would  loan  the 
reporter  pictures  if  he  would  be  sure  to  return  them  unin- 
jured. 


36  CLARA'S  SEARCH  BEGINS. 

"I  shall  be  sure  to  do  so, "  he  answered,  "and  I  commend 
your  decision.  It  saves  me  a  lot  of  trouble,  for,  of  course, 
I  must  obey  me  city  editor ;  he's  a  tyrant.  Miss  Hilman, 
and  if  you  did  not  give  me  the  pictures,  I  should  have  to 
get  them  elsewhere." 

Clara  smiled  as  she  left  the  room  to  get  the  photographs, 
and  when  she  had  given  them  to  Shaughnessy  he  took  his 
departure,  promising  to  call  again. 

"How  could  you  give  him  the  pictures,  Clara?"  asked 
Louise  reproachfully. 

"Mine  will  do  no  harm,"  answered  Clara,  quietly; 
"didn't  you  hear  him  say  he  was  bound  to  get  it  anyway? 
Moreover,  it  may  help  in  discovering  Ivan,  if  only  they 
will  print  a  good  likeness  of  him." 

Clara  was  right  in  one  respect  at  least.  Nearly  every 
evening  paper  published  pictures  of  herself  and  Ivan,  and 
nobody  at  the  Pembroke  house  could  have  told  where  the 
originals  were  obtained. 

"Now  I  must  keep  my  word  and  begin  the  search,"  said 
Clara  after  the  reporter  had  gone. 

"  You're  not  going  to  leave  the  house,  I  hope?"  exclaimed 
her  uncle. 

"Certainly,  uncle,"  she  replied;  "I  feel  quite  well,  and  I 
will  not  overtax  myself.  I  can  stand  anything  better  than 
staying  idle  here." 

"1  am  strongly  disposed  to  forbid  you,"  said  Mr.  Pem- 
broke, anxiously;  "you  are  sure  to  have  a  most  disagreea- 
ble and  painful  experience." 

"Please  don't  go!"  cried  Louise,  who  had  read  the  paper 
that  Mr.  Pembroke  had  concealed. 

"I  am  sorry  to  displease  you  both, "  returned  Clara,  "but 
if  I  am  forbidden  to  go  I  shall  have  to  disobay." 

"Th«n  Louise  must  go  with  you."  said  her  uncle. 

"I  should  like  to  have  her.     Will  vou,  Lou,  dear?" 

Louise  was  only  too  anxious  to  accompany  her  cousin, 
and  accordingly  they  left  the  house  together  just  in  time 
to  escape  a  squad  of  reporters  representing  the  other  even- 
ing papers.  Clara  had  arranged  her  programme  the  night 


CLARA'S  SEARCH  BEGINS.  37 

before,  and  left  word  at  the  house  for  Ralph  and  Paul, 
should  they  come  in  her  absence,  to  go  to  Ivan's  room. 
Mrs:-  White  had  seen  Clara  on  the  few  occasions  when  Mr. 
Strobel  had  served  afternoon  tea  to  his  intended  and  other 
friends,  ard  she  fell  into  a  great  flurry  o'f  agitation  when 
she  recognized  her  at  the  door. 

"Come  in,  "she  stammered  as  she  led  the  way;  "of 
course  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  for  I  am  certain  you  cannot 
believe  it." 

Louise  tried  to  check  the  landlady  from  making  the  in- 
evitable revelation,  but  Clara  laid  one  hand  on  her  cousin's 
arm  and  asked : 

"Believe  what,  Mrs.  White?'" 

"Why,  what's  in  the  paper,"  replied  the  landlady; 
"you've  read  the  papers,  I  suppose?  I  presumed  that  was 
why  you  came." 

"I  read  the  papers,"  said  Clara,  "and  I  came  to  inquire 
about  Ivan.  Do  you  refer  to  the  suggested  irregularities 
in  his  accounts?  Of  course  I  do  not  believe  anything  of 
that  kind." 

"Dear,  no!  I  didn't  suppose  you  did.  I  meant  about  my 
daughter  Lizzie." 

"Your  daughter!"  exclaimed  Clara  in  a  low  voice, 
while  Louisa  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  "What  do  you 
mean?  Let  me  see  the  paper." 

More  agitated  than  ever,  Mrs.  White  produced  a  copy  of 
the  paper  that  Mr.  Pembroke  had  withheld  from  his 
niece. 

"I  must  have  overlooked  this,"  said  Clara,  wonderingly, 
as  she  saw  that  the  account  differed  in  style  from  those 
she  had  read.  Ihe  reporter  of  his  paper,  sharper  than  his 
rivals,  had  somehow  discovered  that  Lizzie  White  hac?  left 
her  home,  anc  he  set  forth  the  circumstances  with  every 
delicate  turn  that  language  would  allow  to  suggest  a  con- 
nection between  her  flight  and  Ivan's  disappearance. 

"It  is  shrewdly  suspected  by  the  friends  of  Strobel,"  so 
the  story  ran,  "that  as  the  time  of  his  marriage  ap- 
proached, he  found  his  fancy  for  Miss  White  stronger  than 


38  CLARA'S  SEARCH  BEGINS. 

his  love  for  Miss  Hilinan,  and  that  he  cho  e  elopement 
with  the  former  as  less  dishonorable  than  marriage  with 
the  latter." 

The  writer  then  proceeded  to  an  elaborate  explanation 
of  how  Strobel  might  himself  have  arranged  the  wheel  of 
his  coupe  so  that  it  would  fall  off,  and  how  he  mijrht 
then,  by  previous  understanding  with  the  second  cabman, 
who  was  also  conveniently  missing,  have  been  driven  to 
the  Park  Square  railroad  station,  where  he  waited  for 
Miss  White.  It  was  entirely  possible  that  they  rrrght  have 
taken  the  one  o'clock  train  for  New  York,  if  not  the  noon 
train. 

Clara  was  very  pale  when  she  laid  the  paper  down,  but 
her  faith  in  Ivan  was  not  so  much  as  touched  by  doubt. 

"It's  an  outrage,''  she  said  quietly. 

"I  knew  you  wouldn't  believe  it!"    exclaimed    Mrs. 

White. 
"Believe  it!  of  course  it  isn't  true!    It's  not  possible!" 

There  was  a  ring  at  the  door  just  then,  and  Mrs.  White 
excused  herself  to  answer  it. 

She  opened  upon  Ivan's  mysterious  visitor,  Alexander 
Poubalov. 


THE  AGENT  OF  THE  CZAR.  39 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  AGENT  OF  THE  CZAR. 

"Good-morning,"  said  Poubalov,  gutturally;  "this  is 
Madame  White,  I  believe?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  landlady,  impressed  at  once  by 
the  stranger's  deferential  manner,  and  believing  that 
through  him  the  mystery  would  be  cleared  away;  "won't 
you  come  in?" 

"Thank  you,  yes.  I  have  called  to  inquire  for  my  friend 
Strobel." 

"You  are  not  the  first,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  White,  opening 
the  door  to  the  sitting-room.  "There  are  two  here  now 
who  will  be  glad  to  see  you.  Miss  Hilman,  this  is  the  gen- 
tleman who  called  on  Mr.  Strobel  yesterday  morning. 
Miss  Hilman  was  to  have  married  him,  you  know,  and 
this  is  Miss  Pembroke,"  and  having  thus  awkwardlv  in- 
itiated a  new  scene,  Mrs.  White  took  refuge  in  the  near- 
est chair. 

Poubalov  was  as  near  to  showing  surprise  as  he  ever 
permitted  himself  to  come,  and  Clara,  rising  impulsively, 
went  directly  to  him  and  said : 

"Then  you  can  tell  me  something  about  Mr.  Strobel, 
can  you  not?" 

"I  can  tell  you  nothing,"  he  answered  gravely;  "I 
came  for  information  myself." 

Clara  looked  into  his  eyes  searchingly,  and  went  back 
to  her  chair  feeling  that  her  greatest  hope  had  been 
dashed  to  the  ground. 

"I  feel  the  awkwardness  of  my  position,  ladies,  "con- 
tinued Poubalov  (I  make  no  attempt  to  suggest  his  dia- 
lect, which  was  at  times  almost  unintelligible,  as  there 
was  nothing  of  a  humorous  or  trivial  character  in  his  con- 


40  THE  AGENT  OF  THE  CZAR. 

versation).  "Every  newspaper  makes  me  out  as  a  possible 
foe  to  Mr.  Strobel,  a  mysterious  ogre  going  about  seeking 
to  destoy  young  men,  and  perhaps  I  should  not  blame 
anybody  for  supposing  that  I  might  have  been  concerned 
in  preventing  Mr.  Strobel's  marriage,  but  I  assure  you 
that  I  was  not.  I  did  not  know  of  his  intentions  until  yes- 
terday morning,  when  he  told  me  about  it  himself.  I  am 
as  much  surprised  as  anybody  to  read  of  his  disappear- 


ance. ' 


Poubalov  paused  and  with  marked  deliberation  took  out 
his  card  case. 

"It  was  but  natural,"  said  Clara,  tremulously,  "that 
we  should  hope  that  you  could  throw  some  light  on  his 
movements,  for  knowing  nothing  except  that  somebody 
had  called  on  him  unexpectedly,  we  could  not  fail  to  at- 
tribute something  significant  to  the  visit." 

"Especially,"  put  in  Mrs.  White,  "as  the  young  men 
and  I  hunted  the  house  over  for  your  card  and  couldn't 
find  it." 

"All  very  natural,"  responded  Poubalov,  imperturba- 
bly,  "and  it  was  a  circumstance  of  the  utmost  triviality 
in  itself  that  lent  color  to  my  mysterious  coming  and  go- 
ing. You  remember,  Mrs.  White,  do  you  not,  that  you 
took  my  card  to  Mr.  Strobel?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  and  he — I  don't  want  to  give  offense — he 
didn't  seem  particularly  pleased  to  see  it." 

"So  you  told  the  newspaper  men.  I  am  not  in  the  least 
offended.  Here  is  the  card  you  took  to  him.  I  asked  Mr. 
Strobel  where  I  might  call  upon  him  after  his  wedding 
tour,  and  he  wrote  that  address  upon  my  own  card.  Of 
course  I  took  it  away  with  me."  He  handed  the  card  to 
Clara,  adding:  "I  want  you  to  see  that  I  am  concealing 
nothing,  and  if  my  voluntary  return  to  this  house  did  not 
signify  anything,  your  suspicions  should  certainly  be  re- 
lieved by  seeing  that  Strobel  himself  made  a  semi-appoint- 
ment with  me  at  his  future  home." 

"I  hope,  Mr.  Poubalov,"  snid  Clara,  with  her  eyes  upon 
the  card,  "that  you  will  forgive  us  for  cherishing  any  un- 


THE  AGENT  OF  THE  CZAR.  41 

just  suspicions.    At  the  worst,  they  were  vague,  and  every- 
thing  is  so  confusing." 

"I  feel  that  there  is  nothing  to  forgive,"  began  Pouba- 
lov,  graciously,  when  Mrs.  White  interrupted,  her  mind 
naturally  intent  upon  her  own  trouble: 

"And  such  horrid  things  as  they  say,  too!  You  said  you 
had  read  the  papers?" 

"Yes,  all  of  them." 

"Did  you  read  about  my  daughter?"  and  the  distressed 
mother  rose,  and,  faking  the  newspaper  from  Clara's  lap, 
thrust  it  into  his  hands.  Without  looking  at  it,  Poubalov 
answered: 

"I  read  it." 

"And  what  do  you  think  of  it?"  cried  Mrs.  White,  stem- 
ming a  fresh  flood  of  tears. 

Poubalov 's  brows  contracted  slightly  as  a  sign  that  he 
disapproved  forcing  this  question  forward  at  the  time, 
and  with  a  grave  glance  at  Clara  he  replied : 

"I  do  not  think.  I  watch,  ask  questions,  and  listen." 

Clara  hardly  knew  whether  to  be  encouraged  or  de- 
pressed by  this  answer.  Unless  this  man  were  an  intimate 
friend  of  Ivan,  it  was  perhaps  not  to  be  expected  that  he 
should  see  the  folly  of  supposing  for  an  instant  that  the 
missing  man  had  eloped  with  Lizzie  White. 

"Mr.  Poubalov,"  she  said,  "the  reports  in  the  news- 
papers do  not  throw  the  least  light  on  this  matter.  I  have 
no  criticism  to  make  on  their  statements  of  fact,  but  their 
conjectures  of  every  kind  are  idle.  They  do  not  even  dis- 
turb me." 

Poubalov  bowed  as  if  to  signify  that  he  heard  and  un- 
derstood. 

"The  cause  of  his  disappearance,  "  she  continued  after 
a  moment,  "it  is  yet  to  be  found.  The  newspapers  have 
not  even  hinted  at  it." 

"You  have  an  idea,  then, "he  said,  "as  to  the  correct 
explanation?" 

"No,  not  one,"  she  answered;  'I  can  only  think  of 
accident;  but  had  there  been  any  accident  so  serious  as 


42  THE  AGENT  OF  THE  CZAR. 

to  render  him  unconscious  and  helpless,  the  police  would 
have  discovered  it  and  reported  it  by  this  time,  would 
they  not?" 

"They  would  if  your  police  are  nearly  as  efficient  as 
those  of  European  cities,"  said  Poubalov,  "and  I  have  no 
doubt  they  are  so  to  the  extent  of  such  emergencies  as 
this  case  presents." 

"Then,  don't  you  see,  the  whole  mystery  is  confined  to 
two  general  solutions;  either  Mr.  Strobel  was  seized  by 
enemies  and  carried  away ;  or  he  had  some  powerful  rea- 
son for  absenting  himself,  and  disappeared  voluntarily." 

The  Russian  was  surprised  and  deeply  impressed  by  the 
young  lady's  clearness  of  vision,  and  Louise,  listening 
with  rapt  attention,  was  simply  amazed  to  hear  her 
cousin  reason  so  calmly  when  every  word  she  uttered 
must  have  cost  her  pain. 

"And  which  of  these  hypotheses,"  asked  Poubalov, 
guardedly,  "do  you  consider  the  more  probable?" 

"I  have  no  means  of  judging  between  them,"  replied 
Clara,  "for  I  have  no  fact  except  the  disappearance  to 
justify  either  one.  It  seems  as  if  there  must  be  some  other 
theory,  if  I  could  only  think  what  it  is." 

"There  is  nD  other,  "said  Poubalov,  "if  you  eliminate 
accident,  as  I  think  you  properly  do." 

"Then  I  must  consider  what  grounds  there  might  be  for 
supporting  both  hypotheses,  As  I  discard  as  utterly 
worthless  all  the  suggestions  in  the  newspapers,  I  must 
suppose  that  Mr.  Strobel  had  enemies,  and  that  these  ene 
mies  were  powerful  enough  either  to  abduct  him  in  broad 
day  on  a  crowded  thoroughfare,  or  cause  him  such  sudden 
fear  that  he  felt  obliged  to  go  into  hiding." 

Again  was  Poubalov  surprised,  for  he  could  not  himself 
have  reasoned  more  clearly,  or  have  stated  his  conclusions 
more  concisely;  but  he  simply  nodded  gravely,  expressing 
neither  convictions  or  emotions.  Clara  wished  that  he 
would  speak.  She  had  expressed  her  thoughts  as  they 
came  to  her  there  in  Mrs.  White's  sitting  room.  It  was 
thinking  aloud  rather  than  a  statement  of  previously 


THE  AGENT  OF  THE  CZAE.  43 

formed  conclusions.  Now  she  saw  to  just  what  end  her 
arguments  were  bringing  her,  and  she  almost  shrank 
from  it.  Summoning  her  utmost  resolution  she  looked 
straight  at  the  sombre  face  of  the  Russian  and  added: 

"I  have  no  knowledge  of  Ivan's  enemies,  Mr.  Poubalov; 
isn't  it  possible  that  you  can  give  some  information  on 
that  phase  of  the  case?" 

"Yes,  it  is,"  replied  Poubalov,  without  hesitation.  Then 
he  paused  a  moment  before  he  continued:  "Were  not  the 
case  so  serious  and  for  you  so  distossing,  I  should  feel 
that  I  must  compliment  you  on  your  unusual  faculty  for 
analyzing  a  situation.  Far  from  taking  offense  at  your 
continued  suspicion  of  me,  I  am  really  pleased." 

"I  have  not  said  that  I  suspected  you." 

"You  did  not  need  to,  Miss  Hilman.  Your  reason  tells 
you  that  Mr.  Strobel  was  happy  and  confident  of  the  fu- 
ture until  suddenly  one  Poubalov  appears  before  him  like 
the  ghost  of  past  misfortunes  and  as  a  prophet  of  new 


ones." 


"I  assure  you, "  interrupted  Clara  again,  "that  I  did  not 
know  that  you  were  not  an  intimate  friend  of  Mr.  Stro- 
bel's;  I  spoke  simply  of  natural  inferences." 

"My  dear  young  lady,"  said  the  Russian,  "you  were 
helpless  in  the  hands  of  your  own  reason." 

Clara  was  silent.  She  felt  instinctively  that  her  analysis 
was  correct  and  that  she  was  facing,  if  not  one  of  Ivan's 
enemies,  at  the  least  a  man  who  represented  all  that 
might  be  hostile  to  him ;  and  when  she  had  endeavored  to 
withdraw  some  of  the  force  of  her  reasoning,  he  himself 
had  held  her  to  her  conclusons  and  clinched  them. 

"It  was  my  intention, "  continued  Poubalov,  "to  learn 
from  Mrs.  White  who  you  were,  that  I  might  solicit  the 
privilege  of  calling  upon  you  and  laying  before  you  what  is 
in  my  knowledge  concerning  Mr.  Strobel,  for  I  fear  that 
I  may " 

He  stopped  abruptly  and  looked  from  one  to  another  of 
the  wondering  ladies. 

'Go  on,  please,"  exclaimed   Clara,  now  stirred  by  a 


44  THE  AGENT  OF  THE  CZAR. 

growing  agitation;  "if  you  can  give  us  the  faintest  light 
it  would  be  cruel  to  withhold  it." 

'May  I  hope  that  no  offense  will  be  taken,"  said  Pouba- 
lov,  "if  I  say  that  I  planned  to  tell  these  things  to  you 
only?  I  will  be  pleased  to  call  at  your  own  convenience." 

"No,  no!"  replied  Clara,  rising;  "I  must  know  now. 
Tell  me  here.  Mrs.  White,  may  we  step  into  your  dining- 
room?" 

Louise  and  the  landlady  had  risen  at  the  same  moment, 
and  Mrs.  White  said : 

"If  Miss  Pembroke  doesn't  object,  she  and  I  will  go  out. 
Only,  Mr. — sir,  if  you  have  anything  to  say  about  my 
daughter,  I  wish  you  would  let  me  hear  it!" 

"It  was  not  my  intention  to  mention  her,  madame, "  re- 
plied Poubalov. 

Louise  went  to  Clara's  side  and  kissed  her. 

" You  are  so  brave,   dear!"  she  said. 

Clara  gave  Louise  a  grateful  look  as  she  and  Mrs.  White 
withdrew,  and  turned  expectantly  to  the  Russian. 

"Pray  sit  down,  Miss  Hilman,"  he  said;  "what  I  have 
to  say  may  not  be  as  important  and  useful  to  you  as  you 
hope*  but  I  preferred,  and  with  good  reason,  as  I  think  you 
will  see,  to  discuss  the  matter  with  you  alone.  It  was  on 
my  tongue  to  say  that  I  may  have  been  innocently  a  part 
of  the  cause  that  sent  Mr.  Strobel  into  hiding." 

"Yes,"  whispered  Clara,  eagerly;  "go  on!" 

"Miss  Hilman,  I  am  an  agent  of  the  czar." 

Poubalov  paused  as  if  he  expected  this  announcement  to 
disturb,  or  otherwise  impress  his  listener  seriously,  but 
she  merely  looked  straight  at  him,  as  she  did  when  he  be 
gan  to  speak. 

"Strobel  knew  me  in  that  capacity,"  he  continued, 
"years  ago  when  we  were  in  Russia.  Has  he  ever  told  you 
about  his  life  there?" 

"A  little,"  replied  Clara,  very  doubtful  how  much  she 
ought  to  reveal  to  this  man  who  represented  the  auto- 
cratic, relentless  power  that  had  destroyed  the  fortune  of 

t.Vio  Ktrnhftl  familv  a.nri  marlo  Ivan  "himsftlf  a.n 


THE  AGENT  OF  THE  CZAR.  4$ 

"You  find  it  difficult  to  be  frank  with  rne, "  said  Pouba- 
lov,  "and  I  am  not  surprised,  but  you  must  remember  that 
I  am  setting  the  example.  It  is  quite  the  habit  of  thought- 
less persons  to  apply  an  opprobrious  epithet  to  my  occupa- 
tion and  call  me  a  spy.  Well,  then,  I,  Alexander  Poubalov, 
spy,  paid  by  the  government  of  Russia,  tell  you  who  I 
am,  and  tell  you  that  at  one  time  Ivan  Strobel  had  reason 
to  fear  me." 

The  door  bell  rang  while  Poubalov  was  speaking  and 
Clara  heard  Mrs.  White  pattering  through  the  hall  to 
answer  it. 

The  man  at  the  door  was  known  to  the  landlady  as 
Strobel's  tailor,  an  undersized,  forlorn-looking  man  who 
seemed  always  to  be  struggling  with  secret  woe.  She  knew 
that  Strobel  had  been  kind  to  him,  and  helped  him  in 
more  ways  than  mere  patronage,  and  she  knew  that  poor 
Litizki  was  as  grateful  and  loyal  as  a  dog.  It  was  with 
sincere  welcome,  therefore,  that  she  greeted  him,  and 
asked  him  into  the  house. 

"I  only  came, "  saicTthe  tailor,  "to  ask  if  there  is  any 
news  of  Mr.  Strobel?  The  newspapers  say  he  has  disap^ 
paared." 

"We  know  nothing  of  him  here,"  answered  Mrs.  WThite; 
"but  come  in,  do!  There's  no  telling  who  may  say  the 
word  that  will  put  us  all  on  the  right  track.  Miss  Hilman 
is  here,  the  lady  he  was  to  marry,  you  know.  She's  talk 
ing  with  a  gentleman  now  in  the  parlor.  I  presume  she 
may  like  to  see  you." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  can  give  her  any  help, "said 
Litizki,  following  the  landlady  into  the  dining-room,  "but 
I'll  wait  a  few  minutes,  for  I  wanted  to  know  something 
that  the  papers  do  not  make  clear. ' ' 

He  came  to  a  sudden  halt  as  he  stepped  into  the  dining- 
room,  where  the  voices  of  the  persons  in  the  front  room 
were  heard  much  more  distinctly  than  in  the  hall. 

"Who  is  that  talking?"  he  exclaimed  in  an  excited 
whisper. 


46  THE  AGENT  OF  THE  CZAE. 

"It's  a  gentleman. who  called  on  Mr.  Strobel yesterday," 
replied  Mrs.  White;  "I  can't  think  of  his  name." 

"I  should  know  that  voice,"  muttered  Litizki  as  if 
speaking  to  himself. 

The  rooms  were  separated  by  folding  doors  with  glazed 
glass  panels.  On  one  of  the  panels  there  was  a  tiny  spot 
where  the  opaque  glaze  had  beon  rubbed  or  knocked  off. 
Litizki  applied  his  eye  to  that  spot,  and  shaded  the  glass 
with  his  hand,  straining  to  get  a  clear  view  of  the  man 
whose  deep  voice  came  to  him  like  the  distant  rumble  of 
an  organ. 

After  a  moment  he  straightened  up  and  turned  about, 
his  sallow,  depressed  features  gleaming  with  savage 
interest. 

"I  cannot  see  clearly,"  he  whispered,  "but  if  that  is 
Alexander  Poubalov,  then  the  whole  mystery  of  Strobel's 
disappearance  is  cleared  away!" 


LITIZKI  AT  WORK.  47 


CHAPTER  VI. 

LITIZKI    AT     WORK. 

"It  would  have  been  perfectly  natural,"  continued  Pou- 
balov,  "for  Strobel  to  suspect  me  at  first  blush  of  evil 
intentions,  and  I  presume  he  did  so ;  for,  without  inquir- 
ing what  brought  me  to  America  and  to  him,  he  took 
pains  to  remind  me  that  he  was  within  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  United  States,  and  that  it  was  not  his  purpose  to 
set  foot  outside  the  limits  of  your  country,  of  which  I  pre- 
sume he  is  by  this  time  a  citizen." 

"He  has  taken  out  his  first  papers,"  replied  Clara. 

"And,  therefore,  should  have  felt  himself  secure  from 
one  who,  supposing  he  were  hostile,  yet  acted  as  the  offi- 
cial of  a  foreign  and  a  friendly  government.  I  give  you 
credit,  Miss  Hilman,  of  drawing  a  correct  conclusion  from 
that  statement  of  relations." 

Poubalov  paused,  and  Clara  responded  slowly: 

"It  ought  to  mean  that  he  had  other  enemies  than  you  or 

those  whom  you  represent." 
"Exactly;  but  why  do  you  hedge — pardon  the  term — 

why  do  you  set  forth  the  conclusion  with  reservation?    'It 

ought  to  mean, '  is  what  you  said.     Why  not  say  it  does 

mean?" 

"Because  I  do  not  know  whether  you  are  telling  me  the 
truth." 

.  Poubalov  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  his  dark  face  was 
momentarily  illumined  by  an  amused  smile. 

"May  I  light  a  cigarette?"  he  asked  in  a  tone  that 
seemed  to  say  how  patient  he  was  under  this  continuance 
of  suspicion  that  not  even  reason  could  dissipate.  It  was 
as  if  he  had  said,  "With  all  your  unexpected  cleverness 


48  LITIZKI  AT  WORK. 

as  a  logician,  Miss  Hilman,  you  are  yet  a  woman,  and  you 
cling  desperately  to  woman's  reasonless  intuitions." 

"Oh,  pardon  me  if  I  am  cruelly  unjust,"  cried  Clara, 
as  clearly  the  woman  in  her  quick  relenting  as  she  was  in 
following  her  intuitions;  "have  patience  with  me!  You 
must  know  how  distressed  I  am,  and  how  hard  it  is  to 
think  clearly.  Your  very  admission  that  you  are  a  paid 
spy  suggests  deceit  and  trickery — I  suppose  I  am  making 
the  matter  worse." 

"By  no  means,  Miss  Hilman,"  replied  Pouhalov,  hold- 
ing a  cigarette  between  his  fingers;  "we  shall  come  to  an 
understanding  presently,  I  am  sure.  I  never  take  offense, 
not  even  when  my  loyalty  to  the  czar  is  doubted;  and 
nothing  you  may  say  will  prevent  me  from  doing  what  I 
can  to  clear  away  the  mystery  surrounding  Mr.  Strobel. " 

"Please  light  your  cigarette,"  said  Clara;  "if  you 
wouldn't  make  me  talk,  we  should  get  on  better." 

Poubalov  smiled  again,  and  when  he  had  puffed  a  great 
cloud  of  fragrant  smoke  from  his  lips,  he  resumed: 

"I  will  proceed  as  if  you  cherished  no  doubts  as  to  my 
sincerity.  It  follows,  from  my  analysis,  that  Mr.  Strobel 
could  have  had  no  fear  of  harm  coming  to  him  from  an 
official  of  Russia.  He  never  had  reason  to  fear  me  as  an 
indivdual;  in  fact,  the  individuality  of  Alexander  Pouba- 
lov long  since  disappeared  in  the  person  of  the  official 
agent.  Poubalov  has  no  enmities,  no  friendships;  all  men 
are  hostile  or  friendly  to  him,  as  they  are  the  enemies 
or  the  adherents  of  the  czar,  whom  God  preserve!  The 
next  step  in  the  analysis  is  to  suggest  the  nature  of  Mr. 
Strobel's  present  enemies.  You  did  not  tell  me  so,  but  I 
presume  you  are  aware  that  when  Mr.  Strobel  was  younger 
he  permitted  his  generous  sympathies  to  be  enlisted  in 
what  he  would  then  have  called  'the  people's  party'  of 
Russia.  Without  going  into  details  with  which  every  in- 
telligent person  is  more  or  less  familiar,  I  will  remind 
you  that,  incidental  to  the  so-called  democratic  movement 
in  Russia,  was  the  organization  of  a  secret  society  the 


L1TIZKI  AT  WORK.  49 

avowed  purpose  of  which    was    the    disruption    of  the 
empire." 

Poubalov  paused,  and  puffed  at  his  cigarette  deliber- 
ately. 

"You  want  me  to  say  something,"  cried  Clara  in  des- 
peration, "and  I  don't  know  what  to  say." 

"Pardon  me,"  said  the  spy,  suavety,  "a  woman  of  your 
cleverness  will  not  resent  it  when  I  tell  you  that  you 
misstate  your  difficulty.  You  could  say  much,  perhaps, 
but  you  are  afraid  to." 

Clara's  silence  was  an  admission  that  Poubalov  had 
spoken  correctly,  and  after  giving  her  ample  time  to  deny 
his  accusation,  he  continued : 

''You  are  afraid — and  again  you  will  pardon  plain  lan- 
guage— that  you  will  involve  your  lover  in  fresh  difficulties. 
Let  me  point  out  again  that,  so  far  as  his  offenses  against 
the  government  of  the  czar  are  concerned,  they  were  purely 
political  offenses,  and  he  is  therefore  in  a  perfectly  secure 
asylum  as  long  as  he  is  on  American  soil,  whether  he 
be  simply  a  refugee  or  a  naturalized  citizen,  "¥ou  must 
seek  for  his  enemies,  Miss  Hilman,  elsewhere  than  among 
the  representatives  of  Kussian  authority." 

"You  give  me  too  much  credit  for  cleverness,"  said 
Clara,  "for  I  cannot  follow  you." 

"You  know  that  the  secret  society  to  which  I  referred 
adopted  the  term  nihilism  as  a  definition  of  its  principles, 
do  you  not?  And  you  must  know,  even  if  Mr.  Strobel 
never  told  you  so,  that  the  Nihilists  were  bound  by  the 
most  awful  oaths  never  to  betray  the  secrets  of  their  as- 
sociation." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Mr.  Strobel  was  a  Nihilist?" 

"Certainly;  that  was  what  I  was  driving  at  from  the 
beginning.  It  was  for  that  ho  was  compelled  tu  fly  fruiu 
Russia,  and  that  is  why  he  cannot  return  to  his  native 
land.  The  government  has  done  much  to  stamp  out  the 
curse  of  nihilistic  propaganda,  and  many  members  of  the 
society  have  fled.  Some  are  in  Switzerland,  some  in  Eng- 
land, others  are  here,  here  in  Boston.  Far  from  the  field 


50  LITIZKI  AT  WORK. 

of  their  evil  machinations,  they  cherish  still  their  destruc- 
tive ambitions  as  applied  to  Russia;  and,  Miss  Hilman, 
they  still  keep  watch  on  one  another.  It  would  fare  ill 
with  any  Nihilist  in  America  should  he  venture  to  betray 
his  former  associates  in  any  way." 

"I  suppose  I  understand  you  now"  said  Clara,  slowly. 
"You  mean  that  I  must  look  for  Ivan's  enemies  among  the 
Russian  exiles  who  live  in  Boston." 

"Or  elsewhere  in  America." 

"If  he  really  w  re  connected  with  'chem  in  Russia,  he 
would  be  the  last  man  to  betray  them. " 

"Doubtless;  but  would  they  credit  him  with  such  loy- 
alty? May  they  not  have  imagined  that,  under  certain 
circumstances,  he  might  be  induced  to  betray  them?  And 
may  they  not  have  conveyed  such  definite  and  fearful 
threats  that  he  found  it  necessary  to  disappear?" 

"Do  you  mean  by 'certain  circumstances' his  intended 
marriage?" 

"No.  I  may  not  mean  anything.  We  shall  see  some  day 
whether  I  do  or  not." 

"You  speak  in  a  constant  succession  of  riddles.  Why 
not  continue  your  frankness,  and  be  strictly  open  with 
me?" 

Poubalov  lit  a  fresh  cigarette,  and  after  a  long  scrutiny 
of  the  ceiling,  responded : 

"That  is  not  my  way,  Miss  Hilman.  I  am   sincerely  try- 
ing to  suggest  the  clew  to  your  difficult  problem." 
Clara  took  her  own  turn  at  reflection,  and  said  at  last: 
"If  Ivan  felt  obliged  to  disappear  for  a  time,  in  order  to 
escape  his  enemies,  he  would  have  managed  to  let  me 
know." 

"It  would  soom  so, "  admitted  Poubalov,  rising;  "and 
that  brings  you  to  your  last  alternative." 

"Wait,"  exclaimed  Clara,  imperatively;  "you  bring 
me  to  the  last  alternative  as  if  that  were  the  end  of  my 
difficulties.  Suppose  it  to  be  true  that  some  Russian  ex- 
iles, in  a  mistaken  distrust  of  Mr.  Strobel,  have  abducted 


LITIZKI  AT  WOEK.  51 

him.     Can  you  not  suggest  how  I  am  to  proceed  to  prove 
that  and  to  rescue  him?" 

"I  hope  to  be  able  to  do  so,  Miss  Hilman,  in  a  short 
time,  a  few  days  at  most,  and  I  assure  you  that  I  shall 
henceforth  give  my  undivided  attention  to  searching  for 
Mr.  Strobel." 

Clara  knitted  her  brows  in  painful  perplexity. 

"A  woman  situated  as  I  am,"  she  said  presently, 
"ought  to  be  stirred  by  nothing  but  gratitude ;  but  the  one 
thing  I  can  think  to  say  is,  why  do  you  interest  your- 
self so  deeply  in  the  matter?" 

"Still  distrustful, "  said  Poubalov  in  his  deepest  tones. 
"Miss  Hilman,  I  might  resort  to  sophistry  and  direct 
deceit  in  answering  your  question.  I  might  point  out  that 
the  newspapers  have  placed  me,  though  not  as  yet  by 
name,  in  a  disagreeable  position  from  which  it  should  be 
my  earnest  desire  to  extricate  myself.  I  might  declare 
that  I  was  moved  by  friendship  or  admiration  for  Mr. 
Strobel.  But  it  does  not  please  me  to  practice  arts  of 
trickery  with  you.  Public  notoriety  I  care  as  little  for  as 
for  the  fly  that  buzzes  harmlessly  about  my  head.  I  never 
had  friendship  or  admiration  for  Mr.  Strobel,  and  I  feel 
neither  sentiment  now.  Alexander  Poubalov's  one  senti- 
ment is  loyalty  to  his  czar." 

"You  haven't  answered  the  question." 

"Because  I  cannot  answer  it  without  either  deceit  or 
the  betrayal  of  my  trust.  But  1  shall  nevertheless  use 
'every  endeavor  to  find  your  lover.  Will  you  care  to  hear 
from  me  from  time  to  time?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Clara,  after  a  moment's  thought;  "cer- 
tainly, yes.  I  do  thank  you  for  speaking  to  me  as  you 
have,  and  I  wish  I  could  trust  you.  I  almost  do  trust 
you." 

"It  would  be  too  ungracious  in  me, "  responded  Pcuba- 
lov,  "not  to  wish  that  you  could  trust  me,  and  not  to  hope 
that  some  time  in  the  near  future  you  will  find  that  in 
this  matter  you  can  do  so  absolutely.'1 


52  LITIZKI  AT  WOEK. 

"I  suppose  it  would  be  vain  to  ask  you  what  you  are 
going  to  do?" 

"As  vain  as  for  me  to  ask  you  to  tell  me  all  I  would  like 
to  know  about  Mr.  Strobel." 

"Mr.  Poubalov,"  exclaimed  Clara,  earnestly,  "there  can 
be  no  reason  why  I  should  withhold  anything  from  you. 
Your  own  argument  proves  that;  and,  besides,  you  know 
more  about  Ivan's  connection  with  the  nihilistic  move- 
ment than  I  ever  dreamed  of.  You  perceive  the  distrust 
that  I  cannot  conquer,  but  you  believe  me,  do  you  not?" 

"Implicitly,  Miss  Hilrnan." 

"Then  I  assure  you  that,  to  my  knowledge,  Mr.  Strobel 
has  not  had  anything  to  do  with  nihilistic  propaganda  in 
this  country  for  three  years  at  least.  He  used  to  write 
some  on  Russian  topics,  but  he  abandoned  that  when  he 
went  into  business,  and — I  may  say,  when  he  became 
acquainted  with  me.  I  think  I  know  all  his  friends,  all 
his  associates,  and  among  them  all  there  is  but  one  Rus- 
sian, a  gentleman  like  himself." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  hear  this,"  sad  Poubalov;  "and  now 
I  will  see  what  I  can  do.  I  cannot  act  as  I  would  in  Russia, 
but  I  can  still  accomplish  something,  I  think.  I  hope  to 
have  the  honor  of  calling  upon  you  soon.  I  leave  it  entirely 
to  you  to  speak  of  our  conversation  as  you  please,  but  I 
will  go  out  without  disturbing  Madame  White  and  your 
friend.  Au  revoir,  Miss  Hilman." 

The  distinguished-looking  Russian  bowed  and  left  the 
room  and  immediately  afterward  Clara  hear  the  outside 
door  close  upon  him. 

When  Litizki,  the  forlorn-looking  tailor,  mentioned 
Poubalov's  name,  both  Mrs.  White  and  Louise  Pembroke 
exclaimed  "That's  it!"  and  both  came  forward  as  if  their 
anxiety  were  about  to  be  dissipated  at  one  stroke. 

"Who  is  he?"  asked  Mrs.  White,  eagerly. 

"He  is — "began  Litizki  fiercely;  "no!  I  must  not 
speak.  Let  me  go  out,  that  I  may  watch  him.  He  shall 
lead  me  to  Ivan  Strobel.  Do  not  tell  him  that  I  have  been 
here,  do  not  mention  my  name." 


LITIZKI  AT  WORK.  53 

"Dear  me!  it  makes  me  more  nervous  than  ever,"  said 
Mrs.  White,  laying  a  hand  on  Litizki's  arm  to  restrain 
him.  "Do  you  think,  Mr.  Litizki,  that  he  has  done  any- 
thing to  Mr.  Strobel?" 

"Think!"  exclaimed  the  little  tailor  who  seemed  on  fire 
with  excitement,  "it  is  the  next  thing  to  knowing!  Not  a 
word,  remember!" 

He  tip-toed  his  way  through  the  hall  as  if  it  were  night 
and  he  were  a  thief,  and  cautiously  opened  the  outside 
door.  He  touched  his  hand  dramatically  to  his  lips  as  he 
closed  it  behind  him,  leaving  Mrs.  White  terrified  and 
Miss  Pembroke  bewildered. 

Litizki,  even  in  a  tumult  of  rage  and  desperation,  was 
not  a  very  impressive  man  to  look  at.  It  would  have 
seemed  that  his  fury  could  be  quelled  by  a  gentle  cuff 
with  the  open  hand,  and  that  his  whole  being  could  be 
snuffed  out  with  a  vigorous  pinch ;  but  if  ever  man  was  ter- 
ribly in  earnest,  he  was,  and  a  close  observer  might  have 
noted  the  danger  signals  in  the  formation  of  his  head  and 
in  the  hang  of  his  lips.  This  was  a  man  who  might  be 
stirred  to  such  depths  that  his  whole  shallow  nature 
would  be  in  commotion,  when  discretion  would  be  cast  off 
like  flecks  of  foam  from  an  on-rushing  wave;  and  then  let 
an  enemy  be  wary,  for  even  a  slender  arm,  like  that  of  the 
little  tailor,  may  strike  a  fatal  blow ! 

It  seemed  a  long,  long  time  to  Litizki  that  Poubalov  con. 
tinued  his  conversation  with  Miss  Hilman.  He  dared  not 
linger  near  the  house  lest  the  spy  should  see  him  from 
a  window,  or  emerge  suddenly  from  the  doorway  and  so 
discover  that  eager  eyes  were  directed  to  his  movements. 
Litizki  slunk  into  one  doorway  after  another,  never  stay- 
ing long  in  one,  lest  he  be  warned  away  with  sufficient 
outcry  to  alarm  Poubalov,  whose  ear,  he  believed,  was 
acutely  tuned  to  the  slightest  sounds,  and  who  found 
untoward  significance  even  in  the  vagrant  breeze. 

At  last  the  door  opened,  and  Litizki  dodged  into  an  open 
hall,  only  to  flit  out  again  as  soon  as  he  saw  Poubalov  turn 
toward  Somerset  Street.  Arrived  there,  he  turned  down 


54  LITIZKI  AT  WORK. 

the  hill,  and  then  Litizki  ran  forward  to  the  corner  around 
which  he  peered  cautiously.  It  would  not  have  surprised 
him  if  his  face  had  touched  that  of  Poubalov  as  he  did 
so,  for  it  would  have  seemed  to  him  but  natural  that  the 
spy  should  think  that  he  was  followed  and  should  wait 
there  for  the  purpose  of  trapping  his  adversary.  But,  no ; 
Poubalov  was  progressing  calmly  down  the  street,  and 
at  Howard  he  again  turned  to  the  left. 

Litizki  ran  after,  fearful  of  losing  his  man  in  the  more 
crowded  street,  saw  him  cross  Bulfinch  into  Bulfinch  Place, 
and  finally  open  the  door  of  a  lodging  house  with  a  latch- 
key. 

So!"  thought  the  tailor,  noting  the  number  of  the 
house  and  turning  back,  "he  chooses  his  room  within  a 
stone's  throw  of  Ivan  Strobel's,  and  then  takes  a  round- 
about way  to  go  from  one  house  to  the  other.  That  is 
like  him.  Alexander  Poubalov  could  not  be  direct  in  con- 
versation or  action  even  if  he  were  intent  upon  a  good 
deed — which  would  be  impossible." 

The  suggestion  was  so  grotesquely  absurd  that  Litizki 
laughed  and  shuddered  at  once. 

"Now,"  he  reflected,  "shall  I  tell  the  police  where  to 
look  for  Ivan  Strobel,  or  shall  I  consult  with  his  lady? 
I  will  go  back  and  see  her  first." 


A  DANGEROUS  MAN.  55 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A   DANGEROUS  MAN. 

For  some  minutes  after  Poubalov  left  the  house  Clara 
sat  motionless,  reviewing  the  strange  discourse  of  the 
Russian,  trying  to  persuade  herself  one  moment  .to  trust 
him,  and  the  next  impulsively  throwing  aside  the  theories 
so  finely  spun  from  his  inuendoes  and  circumlocutions. 
She  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  Ivan  in  the  hands  of  such 
fanatics  as  she  knew  were  included  in  the  most  rabid 
enemies  of  Russian  polity,  and  as  promptly  felt  such  a  so- 
lution of  the  mystery  to  be  impossible.  Equally  impossible 
semed  the  solution  that  premised  a  fear  on  the  part  of 
Ivan  so  great  that  he  dared  not  let  even  his  intended  wife 
know  of  his  whereabout. 

Removed  from  the  influence  of  Poubalov 's  magnetic 
personality  and  his  subtle  arguments,  Clara  felt  that  it 
was  to  him  rather  than  to  the  Nihilists  that  she  must  look 
for  implacable  hostility  to  Ivan.  Yet  why  should  Ivan, 
resident  in  and  prospective  citizen  of  the  United  States, 
fear  him,  an  "official  agent  of  a  friendly  government"? 
Fear?  That  was  not  like  the  Ivan  she  knew  and  loved ! 
Was  it  not  again  impossible  that  her  lover  should  have 
been  so  stirred  by  fear  of  anybody  or  anything  as  to  take 
flight  and  conceal  his  hiding-place  from  her? 

On  the  other  hand,  how  could  she  know  what  influ- 
ences had  been  suddenly  applied  to  Ivan  to  make  him  take 
a  seemingly  indefensible  if  not  impossible  course?  And 
what  was  more  impossible,  in  any  of  the  suggested  solu- 
tions, than  his  very  disappearance,  which  was  a  painful 
fact,  although  hard  to  realize  even  after  nearly  twenty- 
four  hours  had  passed  since  the  time  set  for  his  wedding? 


56  A  DANGEROUS  MAN. 

The  dining-room  door  was  softly  opened,  and  Mrs. 
White  put  in  her  head. 

"Has  he  gone?"  she  whispered. 

"Yes,"  replied  Clara,  starting  up  as  if  she  had  been 
aroused  from  sleep.  "Come  in." 

Louise  approached  her  cousin  solicitously. 

"We  have  had  such  a  fright!"  she  said  taking  Clara  in 
her  arms;  "I  didn't  know  whether  to  be  more  alarmed 
when  we  could  hear  his  deep  voice  than  after  the  sound  of 
it  had  ceased  altogether." 

"Why  should  you  have  feared?"  asked  Clara;  "you 
couldn't  suppose  that  I  was  in  any  danger  in  Mrs.  White's 
house,  could  you?" 

"No,"  answered  Louise,  "but  the  air  is  fulll  of  excite- 
ment ;  and  while  Mr.  Poubalov  was  talking,  another  Rus_ 
sian  came  in  who  is  friendly  to  Ivan.  Mrs.  White  says  he 
is  a  tailor,  a  very  poor  man  whom  Ivan  befriended,  and 
an  exile  like  himself.  He  recognized  Poubalov 's  voice,  and 
delcared  positively  that  his  presence  here  explained  Ivan's 
fate.  He  was  terribly  agitated  and  refused  to  stay,  say- 
ing that  he  must  follow  Poubalov.  We  couldn't  tell  what 
to  make  of  it." 

This  little  narration  came  as  a  new  shock  to  Clara.  She 
had  told  Poubalov  that  among  all  of  Ivan's  friends  there 
was  but  one  Russian,  and  she  had  in  mind,  of  course, 
Paul  Palovna.  She  had  never  heard  of  this  tailor,  and  al- 
though it  might  not  follow  that  Ivan  would  count  among 
his  friends  a  poor  man  whom  he  might  have  befriended, 
was  it  not  a  reasonable  inference  that  this  poor  man  was  a 
Nihilist?  and  that  if  there  were  one  brought  to  light,  that 
there  might  be  many  others  whose  identity  would  ever  re- 
main unknown  to  her?  Had  she  not  heard  how  the  great 
body  of  the  nihilistic  society  was  made  up  of  the  poor? 
and  this  man  had  recognized  Poubalov !  That  was  signifi- 
cant, surely;  but  just  what  inference  of  value  she  should 
draw  from  it  was  anything  but  clear. 

While  these  thoughts  and  questions  were  chasing 
through  her  brain,  Litizki  and  Paul  Palovna  arrived  at 


A  DANGEROUS  MAN.  57 

the  house,  coming  from   different  directions.     Paul  ap- 
proached Clara  with  marked  constraint. 

"Do  not  be  afraid,  my  friend,"  she  said,  extending  her 
hand;  "I  am  quite  strong  and  hopeful.  I  have  read  the 
papers,  all  of  them,  and  they  do  not  disturb  me.  I  cannot 
thank  you  enough  for  what  you  did  for  me  yesterday." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  speak  so  bravely, "  responded 
Paul;  "you  mustn't  feel  indebted  to  me,  however,  for 
Strobel  is  the  best  friend  I  ever  had,  and  it  would  be 
strange  indeed  if  I  did  not  try  to  find  him.  I  suppose  it  is 
almost  unkind  to  ask  if  there  is  any  news?" 

'There  is  none  exactly,  and  yet  1  have  heard  some 
things  that  you  can  advise  me  about  better  than  anybody 
else." 

"Miss  Hilman,"  interposed  Mrs.  White,  "this  is  Mr. 
Litizki,  the  man  Miss  Pembroke  was  telling  you  about. " 

Clara,  intent  upon  referring  Poubalov's  suggestions  to 
Paul,  had  not  seen  the  little  tailor  come  in.  Now  she  turned 
and  confronted  Litizki  with  mingled  hope  and  alarm ; 
hope  that  this  man,  whose  positive  utterance  had  been  re- 
ported, might  give  her  a  definite  clew ;  alarm  lest  he  be 
one  of  the  most  irreconcilable  of  revolutionists,  a  man 
who  would  sacrifice  friends  and  family  for  a  cause  that  he 
imagined  just.  Her  doubts  increased  as  she  saw  the  wild 
gleam  in  his  small  eyes,  that  lit  up  Ins  sallow  face  and 
made  it  glow  with  fierce  intensity.  Ivan  had  befriended 
him  ;  must  she  distrust  him,  too? 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said  with  a  quick  resolution 
to  win  this  man,  and  she  surprised  the  tailor  and  made 
him  speechless  for  the  moment  by  grasping  his  hand 
warmly.  "You  have  come  to  tell  me  something  about  Mr. 
Poubalov,  or  Mr.  Strobel,  or  both?" 

Litizki,  embarrassed  and  awed  by  this  queenly  young 
woman  who  looked  into  his  eyes  so  searchingly  and 
withal  so  graciously,  cleared  his  throat,  shifted  about  on 
his  feet,  and  a  faint  tinge  of  red  actually  found  its  way 
to  his  sunken  cheeks. 

"Yes,"  he  answered  after  a  moment,  catching  his  breath 


58  A  DANGEROUS  MAN. 

with  a  gasp  and  swallowing  as  if  he  took  oxygen  into  his 
system  by  way  of  his  stomach;  "yes,  Miss  Hilman,  about 
both,  if  you  please." 

He  paused,  excitement  and  embarrassment  making  it 
difficult  to  say  anything  coherently. 

"Poubalov?"  said  Paul,  whose  brows  had  contracted 
ominously  when  he  heard  the  name,  and  who  took  ad- 
vantage of  the  pause  to  ask,  "What  Poubalov  is  that?" 

"Can  there  be  more  than  one  who  would  hound  a  poor 
Russian  the  world  over?"  rasped  Litizki,  turning  upon 
Paul,  intense  excitement  blazing  again  in  his  usually 
dull  eyes;  "it  is  none  other  than  Alexander  Poubalov, 
spy,  informer,  traitor!" 

The  little  tailor  trembled  visibly  as  he  hissed  these 
words,  and  he  turned  to  Clara  as  if  to  make  certain  that 
they  should  impress  her  deeply. 

"What,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  right,  does  Poubalov 
do  here?"  asked  Paul. 

"Do?"  cried  Litizki;  "does  he  ever  do  anything  but 
spy  upon  the  poor?  Ask  what  has  he  done  here,  and  I  will 
tell  you  that  he  has  captured  our  Strobel,  and  has  him 
bound  in  chains,  waiting  only  a  convenient  and  safe  op- 
portunity to  convey  him  from  the  country  to  the  presence 
of  the  little  father*  and  then,  Siberia,  or— "  and  the 


*Russian  familiar  name  for  the  czar, 
tailor  drew  his  hand  significantly  across  his  throat. 

Clara  observed  Paul,  not  the  tailor,  during  this  extravaJ 
gant  speech.  Would  Palovna,  an  intelligent  man,  free 
from  excitement,  condemn  and  ridicule  Litizki's  asser- 
tions as  wild  and  imaginary?  No;  he  listened  gravely 
and  gave  no  sign  that  he  discredited  the  tailor  in  the 
least.  Noticing  Clara's  inquiring  look,  Paul  said: 

"We  Russians,  Miss  Hilman,  are  inclined  to  credit  alJ 
most  any  monstrosity  in   the  way  of  crime,   treachery 
and  violence  to  men  like  Alexander  Poubalov.     To  us  lie 
stands  as  guilty  of  anything  with  which  he  is  charged 
until  he  incontestably  proves  himself  innocent.'* 


A  DANGEROUS  MAN.  59 

Clara's  heart  sank  heavily,  but  she  that  knew  that  she 
could  trust  Paul. 

"May  I  tell  you  something?"  she  asked,  and  he  fol- 
lowed her  into  the  dining-room.  There  she  hurriedly  re- 
peated the  substance  of  Poubalov's  discourse,  laying  es- 
pecial stress  upon  his  warning  relative  to  distrustful 
Nihilists. 

"It's  a  splendid  argument,'  said  Paul  when  she  had  fin- 
ished; "I  suppose  you  were  attracted  by  his  very  frank- 
ness in  admitting  that  he  is  a  spy?  That  was  a  character- 
istic move.  Mind  you,  I  never  had  trouble  with  Poubalov ; 
I  wouldn't  know  him  if  I  saw  him,  but  I  know  about  him. 
He  is  a  very  prince  of  spies,  a  past-master  in  the  art  of 
deceit,  and  many,  many  shrewd  men  have  been  the  vic- 
tims of  his  seeming  candor.  You  may  be  sure  he  masks 
some  villainy  beneath  his  frankness,  for  he  never  was 
known  to  do  a  disinterested  act." 

"He  spoke  as  if  he  were  here  upon  some  mission, "  sug- 
gested Clara. 

"Certainly,  but  he  wouldn't  tell  you  what  that  mis- 
sion was.  That  it  had  to  do  with  Strobel  is  certain.  I 
don't  want  to  alarm  you  unnecessarily,  Miss  Hilman,  but 
Poubalov  is  a  most  dangerous  man.  It  may  be  well  for  us 
that  you  have  faced  him,  though  we  must  necessarily 
have  discovered  his  presence  soon,  and  to  see  him  is  to 
suspect.  We  at  least  know  where  to  look.  Litizki  is  an 
impressionable,  excitable  man,  but  he  may  be  right,  never- 
theless. I  am  sure  that  you  can  trust  him,  whether  or  not 
there  is  anything  in  Poubalov's  nihilistic  suggestions. 
And  as  to  that,  I  don't  believe  there  is — not  with  him 
about.  Plenty  of  false  notions  prevail  about  the  Russian 
revolutionists,  and  it  would  be  to  Poubalov's  interest  to 
arouse  dread  of  them  in  your  mind.  Anything  to  distract 
attention  and  suspicion  from  himself." 

They  returned  to  the  front  room.  Litizki  had  recovered 
from  his  excitement,  and  was  more  like  his  customary, 
depressed  self,  but  though  he  spoke  quietly  it  was  with 
bitter  emphasis  and  strong  conviction. 


60  A  DANGEROUS  MAN. 

"I  believe,"  he  said,  "that  Poubalov  instigated  if  he 
did  not  take  part  in  the  abduction  of  Mr.  Strobel.  I  am 
convinced  that  he  has  him  now  in  hiding,  and  the  ques- 
tion only  is  whether  we  are  to  inform  the  police  or  take 
action  ourselves." 

"Tho  police,"  responded  Paul,  "would  not  procood 
against  Poubalov  on  the  strength  of  our  suppositions.  He 
would  intrench  himself  in  his  official  position,  and  insist 
on  compliance  with  all  forms  of  law ;  and  during  the  de- 
lay, if,  indeed,  he  has  Strobel  in  his  power,  he  would  spirit 
him  away." 

"So  I  think,"  said  Litizki,  "and  as  he  won't  dare  to 
remove  Strobel  until  the  interest  in  his  disappearance 
dies  down,  unless  he  wore  openly  attacked  in  the  manner 
you  suggest,  I  intend,  if  Miss  flilman  agrees,  to  hunt  for 
our  friend  in  my  own  way.  I  shall  do  so  to-night.  I  must 
find  him." 

He  looked  inquiringly  at  Clara. 

"I  cannot  say  yes  or  no,"  she  replied;  "you  are  a  friend 
of  Mr.  Strobel's  and  you  will  do  what  you  think  best. 
Only,  let  me  know  what  you  find." 

There  was  a  gleam  of  pleasure  in  Litizki 's  eyes,  fol- 
lowed by  an  expression  of  sullen  determination  as  he  re- 
sponded : 

"You  shall  hear  from  me  to-morrow." 

"Lou, "said  Clara,  "I  think  we  had  better  go  home 
now.  I  am  feeling  very  worn.  If  any  of  you  hear  the  least 
word,  I  wish  you  would  come  to  see  me." 

As  she  prepared  to  leave  she  took  occasion  to  whisper  to 
Paul : 

"I  do  not  know  that  I  do  right  in  encouraging  Litizki. 
My  feeling  is  that  the  more  there  are  at  work  and  the 
more  various  the  methods,  the  greater  is  the  chance  of 
success.  May  I  leave  it  to  you  to  prevent  Litizki,  if  pos- 
sible, from  any  act  that  would  be  indiscreet,  or  worse?" 

"I  will  do  what  I  can,"  said  Paul;  'but  he  is,  after  all, 
an  irresponsible  agent.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  good 
will  corne  of  his  investigation,  whatever  he  does." 


A  DANGEROUS  MEN.  61 

It  was  the  luncheon  hour  when  the  young  ladies  reached 
home,  and  Mr.  Pembroke  had  arrived  before  them.  His 
face  expressed  painful  anxiety  as  he  greeted  his  niece. 

"My  poor  child,"  he  said,  "you  have  heard  everything, 
I  suppose?" 

"I  have  heard  a  great  deal,  uncle,"  replied  Clara,  "and 
appreciate  your  motives  in  withholding  the  paper  from 
me  that  published  the  wicked  rumor  that  Ivan  had  eloped, 
but  you  should  have  known  me  better.  Do  you  suppose, 
uncle  dear,  that  that  rumor  disturbed  me?  I  dismiss  it 
more  lightly  than  anything  that  has  been  said." 

"Poor  child!  poor  child!"  sighed  Mr.  Pembroke. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?"  asked  Clara,  sitting  down 
wearily.  "Of  course,  I  am  sorrowful;  nobody  can  realize 
what  I  suffer;  but  I  am  confident  that  Ivan  has  done  no 
wrong,  and  I  cannot  believe  that  we  shall  not  find  him.  I 
have  returned  to  rest,  not  to  give  up  the  search." 

"Clara,  my  dear  girl,"  said  her  uncle,  tenderly,  "you'd 
best  give  it  up.  You  have  a  great  sorrow  to  bear,  but  I 
know  how  brave  you  are.  There  is  no  occasion  for  fur- 
ther search." 

"No  occasion!    Uncle,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"The  detective  assigned  from  headquarters  to  make  an 
investigation  has  been  to  see  me," 

"Yes,  yes!  what  did  he  say?" 

"The  worst  possible,  Clara.  He  is  convinced  that  Strobol 
went  to  New  York,  if  not  with  Lizzie  White,  then  to  join 
her  there.  It  is  the  only  possible  explanation  of  his  disap- 
pearance." 

"No!  no!  you  know  nothing  about  it,  and  the  detective 
is  a  fool!"  cried  Clara. 

Mr.  Pembroke  was  immensely  surprised  at  this  violent 
outbreak,  when  he  had  expected  tears,  prostration,  the 
deepest  grief.  It  occurred  to  him  that  perhaps  his  niece's 
mind  had  been  unsettled  by  her  trouble.  She  sat  looking 
a  him  with  blazing  eyes,  her  face  flushed,  her  foot  nerv- 
ously patting  the  floor. 


69  A  DANGEROUS  MAN. 

"You  are  greatly  excited,  Clara, "  ventured  her  uncle, 
gently. 

"Tell  me  what  the  detective  said!'1  retorted  Clara,  im- 
periously. 

"He  has  found  that  a  closed  carriage,  such  as  we  know 
Strobel  took  at  the  corner  of  Park  and  Tr«  -ots, 

halted  at  the  Park  Square  Station  y  after  that  time. 

The  passenger  was  aye  who  a:          --d  the  de- 

scription of  Strobel.  He  paid  the  driver,  went  n  sta- 

tion, bought  a  ticket  for  New   York,   and   immodm 
took  his  place  in  the  train.    It  is  further  known  that  L 
White  took  a  train  from  the  same  station  at  about  t ho 
same  hour/' 

Is  that  all?"  asked  Clara,  scornfully. 

"My  dear  girl,  is  it  not  enough?" 

"It  is  nothing,  uncle,  absolutely  nothing.    Has  your  de- 
tective seen  the  driver  of  the  closed  carriage?" 

"I  .1  n't  know;  I  suppose  so.'* 

"1  n i ust  see  the  detective  then.  No,  I  am  not  going 
now.  After  luncheon.  1  shall  not  risk  failure  by  neglect- 
ing to  care  for  myself.  Uncle  dear, "  and  she  sudd< -nl y 
united  and  put  her  arms  around  the  old  gentleman's 
;ive  me,  please,  if  I  am  impatient  ami  hasty 
\vith  yon.  I  know  Ivan  as  you  do  not;  I  know  this  aconsa- 
tinn  is  not  true.  The  detective  has  been  mistaken,  and  1 
shall  show  him  so,  and  all  the  world  besides." 

Mr    l  v m broke  sighed  sadly. 

Your  loyalty,  my  dear, "  he  said,  "is  deserving  of  a 
better  subject  and  a  better  fate," 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY.  63 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY. 

Nothing  would  deter  Clara  from  a  trip  to  police  head- 
quarters after  luncheon,  and,  as  in  the  forenoon,  her 
Cousin  Louise  accompanied  her.  As  they  entered  the 
building  in  Pemberton  Square,  they  met  the  infirm  old 
man,  Dexter,  he  who  had  arrived  late  at  the  church,  he 
whom  Clara  had  interrupted  in  conversation  with  Mr. 
Pembroke.  He  bowed  to  the  young  ladies  with  an  at- 
tempt at  graciousness,  and  reached  for  the  shapeless,  soft 
cap  that  covered  his  head,  but  he  only  succeeded  in  pull- 
ing the  visor  awry,  and  he  passed  them,  mumbling  about 
the  weather. 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Clara,  "that  my  trouble  is  making 
me  harsh  toward  everybody,  but  that  old  man  seems  to 
me  the  most  disagreeable  and  repulsive  being  I  ever  saw. 
Who  is  he?" 

*'I  only  know  that  his  name  is  Dexter  "  replied  Louise; 
"he  has  some  business  with  papa,  I  believe." 

Clara  inquired  for  the  detective  who  had  been  assigned 
to  the  Strobel  case,  and  after  such  delays  as  are  naturally 
incident  to  strangers  making  their  first  call  at  the  offices 
of  the  department,  she  was  confronted  by  Mr.  William 
Bowker,  a  commonplace-looking  individual,  who  said: 

"Well,  ladies,  what  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"I  am  Miss  Hilman, "  replied  Clara. 

"Ah!"  and  Bowker  raised  his  brows  regretfully,  "I  in- 
formed your  uncle  this  forenoon,  Miss  Hilman,  of  what  I 
have  done  and  found  in  the  matter." 

"He  told  me  about  it,  but  I  couldn't  be  satisfied  with  a 
report  at  second  hand.  Won't  you  tell  me  just  what  you 
told  him?" 


64  IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY. 

"It  will  be  very  unpleasant  for  you,  Miss  Hilman,  and 
if  Mr.  Pembroke  has  told  you  the  result  of  iny  investiga- 
tion, that  is  really  all  there  is  to  be  said." 

"I  won't  trouble  you  to  repeat  that  a  gentleman  answer 
ing  the  description  of  Mr.  Strobel  alighted  from   a  cl< 
carriage  at  the  Park  Square  Station,  shortly  after  the  aeH- 
dent  on  Park  Street  and  bought  a  ticket  for  New  York,  or 
that  Miss  White  took  the  same  train.    I  am  willing  to  take, 
it  for  granted  that  you  have  traced  Miss   White's   nv 
rnents  correctly.     I  want  to  know  what  makes  you  so  cer- 
tain that  the  gentleman  who  took  the  train  ^as  Mr.  Stro- 
bel?" 

Detective  Bowker  stared  at  the  young  lady  a  moment; 
it  was  his  delicate  way  of  expressing  surpri&e. 

"The  description  of  the  man  and  the  time  tallied  with 
Strobel  and  his  accident, "  he  answered,  "to  say  nothing 
of  the  reasons  for  his  running  away." 

"Is  that  all,  Mr.  Bowker?" 

"No,  it  ain't;  that  was  what  we  found  at  first.     Don't 

it  look  reasonable "  and  he  proceeded  to  theorize  on 

the  matter  until  Clara  checked  him. 

"I  could  have  heard  all  that  from  half  the  people  in 
Boston, "she  said,  "if  I  had  paid  any  attention  to  the 
rumor.  I  supposed  professional  detectives  would  base 
their  reports  on  something  better  than  conjecture." 

Bowker  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"What  would  you  say,"  he  asked  with  a  little  temper, 
"if  an  acquaintance  of  Strobel 's  was  to  tell  you  that  he 
saw  the  gentleman  buy  his  ticket  and  go  to  the  train?" 

"Have  you  such  evidence  as  that?    If  so,  who  is  it?' 

"I  can't  answer  the  question,  Miss  Hilman.  I  have  no 
right  to  make  public  the  workings  of  the  department.  I 
expect  to  get  further  evidence  this  afternoon  to  prove 
that  Strobel  eloped.  It's  by  no  wish  of  mine,  you  under- 
stand, that  I  tell  you  these  disagreeable  things." 

"You  needn't  apologize,  Mr.  Bowker.  I  came  for  infor- 
mation. I  understand,  then,  that  you  do  not  regard  your 
investigation  as  finished." 


65 

"Well,  not  exactty.    Of  course  we  want  to  clinch  it. " 

"Have  you  seen  the  driver  of  the  closed  carriage?" 

"No.  We  have  no  means  of  identifying  him  except  rec- 
ognition by  the  man  who  drove  the  coupe.  If  a  man 
should  walk  in  here  and  say  that  he  drove  the  closed  car- 
riage, we'd  examine  him,  of  course,  but  we've  been  una- 
ble yet  to  find  that  man.  The  thing  being  in  the  papers, 
it  may  happen — in  fact,  it's  quite  likely— that  the  miss- 
ing driver  will  turn  up  to-day.  Cabmen  are  usually  anx- 
ious to  please  the  department.  I  suppose  the  evidence  of 
the  cabman  would  be  satisfactory,  wouldn't  it?" 

"Quite,  if  I  was  satisfied  that  it  was  the  man,  and  that 
he  told  the  truth." 

"I  guess  you're  hard  to  satisfy,  Miss  Hilman." 

"Mr.  Bowker,"  and  Clara  beamed  on  him  with  a  smile 
so  sweet  and  radiant  that  he  started  with  astonishment, 
"I  think  you  are  working  hard  and  as  faithfully  as  you 
know  how  to  prove  a  theory  which  you  formed  early  in 
your  investigations,  even  before  you  had  Lizzie  White's 
fight  to  base  it  on.  I  shouldn't  think  you'd  do  that,  you 
know.  Honestly,  wouldn't  you  rather  find  out  the  truth, 
even  if  it  did  upset  your  first  theory?" 

Bowker  stared  in  undisguised  discomfort, 

"If  you've  got  any  facts,"  he  said,  "you'd  ought  to  let 
us  have  them.  Of  course  we  want  to  find  out  the  truth. 
What  is  it  you  know,  or  think  of?" 

"No,  thank  you,  Mr.  Bowker,"  responded  Clara,  rising, 
and  still  bewildering  him  with  her  lovely  smiles ;  "you 
work  along  in  your  way  and  I'll  work  in  mine.  When  I 
learn  that  you've  found  anything  worth  considering,  I  may 
take  you  into  my  confidence ;  I  might  even  co-operate 
with  you.  Good-afternoon." 

No  one  was  more  amazed  at  Clara's  coolness  that  her 
Cousin  Louise. 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  do  it,  Clara,"  she  said  when 
they  were  again  in  Pemberton  Square. 

"Do  you  realize,"  returned  Clara,  "what  might  happen 
if  I  didn't  do  something  of  this  kind?  Somebody  must 


66       IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY. 

stir  everybody  else  up,  or  else  the  public  will  not  only 
come  to  believe  that  Ivan  was  false,  but  we  shall  never 
find  him.  I  may  be  making  mistakes,  but  I  don't  believe 
that  detective  will  be  content  to  stop  where  he  is.  He'll 
look  further,  and  the  further  he  looks  the  more  certainly 
will  he  find  that  he  has  been  working  at  a  wrong  theory. 
Let's  go  somewhere  and  find  a  business  directory." 

They  went  to  the  parlor  of  a  neighboring  hotel,  where 
for  an  hour  Clara  busied  herself  making  a  list  of  all  the 
livery  and  hack  stables  in  the  city.  Then  she  hired  a  cab, 
and  for  hours  the  young  ladies  went  from  one  to  another 
stable,  Clara  always  with  the  same  inquiry,  seeking  for 
some  trace  of  him  whom  for  convenience  she  came  to  call 
the  "second  driver." 

There  is  no  need  to  go  into  the  details  of  her  tedious 
search.  It  was  not  concluded  when  evening  came,  and 
she  had  to  desist  from  sheer  fatigue.  She  had  found  no 
clew  that  promised  the  discovery  of  the  one  witness  who 
could  certainly  be  of  use  to  her. 

From  Mrs.  White's  Litizki  went  to  his  shop  and  toiled 
patiently  and  methodically  for  two  or  three  hours.  He 
hardly  opened  his  lips  during  the  whole  time,  but  his 
brain  was  busy  with  projects.  That  Poubalov  was  respon- 
sible for  the  fate  of  Ivan  Strobel  did  not  admit  of  a  shadow 
of  doubt ;  that  he  had  concealed  the  young  man  in  his 
lodgings  was  not  so  certain,  but  Litizki  deemed  it  alto- 
gether probable.  The  spy  would  have  plenty  of  money, 
he  could  have  put  up  at  a  hotel;  why  had  he  not  done  so? 
Because,  according  to  Litizki's  reasoning,  he  had  uses  for 
a  lodging  to  which  the  public  conveniences  of  a  hotel  could 
not  safely  be  bent.  Distrustful  of  all  men,  the  spy  would 
keep  his  prisoner  under  his  own  charge,  and  in  a  lodging- 
house  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  purchase  the  discreet 
silence  of  a  not  too  scrupulous  landlady  concerning  a  mys- 
terious co-tenant. 

The  more  he  thought  about  it  the  more  firmly  the  idea 
took  possession  of  the  tailor  that  Strobel  was  confined  in 
the  Bulfinch  Place  lodging-house  which  Poubalov  had  en- 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY.  67 

tered  by  means  of  a  latch-key.  If  any  one  had  suggested 
to  him  the  spy's  arguments  to  the  effect  that  as  the  agent 
of  a  friendly  government  he  could  not  venture,  if  he 
would,  to  violate  American  law,  Litizki  would  have 
laughed,  and  that  would  have  been  very  significant  of  his 
immeasurable  contempt  for  the  argument,  for  it  was  not 
in  the  memory  of  his  associates  that  the  tailor  had  ever 
smiled.  His  nearest  approach  to  it,  in  fact,  was  when  he 
manifested  pleasure  at  the  idea  of  being  countenanced  in 
an  investigation  of  Poubalov's  doings  in  his  own  way.  Re- 
spect American  law,  indeed!  Then  would  Poubalov  be 
other  than  he  was,  and  the  leopard  might  be  expected  to 
change  his  spots. 

Litizki  hated  Poubalov  with  all  the  concentrated  venom 
of  his  small  nature,  a  nature  that  had  known  little  of 
good  in  the  world  save  in  Ivan  Strobel's  kindness,  that  had 
felt  the  blows  of  tj'ranny  and  the  stabs  of  treachery  at  the 
hands  of  this  same  spy.  A  desire  for  vengeance  haa  smol- 
dered long  in  his  heart,  and  he  had  never  expected  that 
any  breeze  of  fortune  would  fan  it  into  living  flame;  and 
now,  suddenly,  it  had  burst  forth  a  raging  fire,  and  the 
possibility  of  opportunity  rose  before  his  dull  eyes  as  the 
one  glad  hope  of  his  wretched  life.  Poubalov  in  America ! 
Poubalov  at  his  treacherous  work  against  the  one  man 
who  had  inspired  Litizki  with  confidence  and  stirred  his 
affections!  and  he,  Litizki,  knew  Poubalov's  secret,  knew 
where  he  could  lay  hands  upon  him !  Fate  must  have 
placed  him  there  in  order  that  Litizki's  vengeance  might 
be  the  more  complete. 

The  tailor  laid  down  his  tools  and  bent  his  head  upon 
his  hands.  Poubalov  must  be  checkmated,  Strobel  res- 
cued ;  and  if  in  accomplishing  this  end,  the  spy  should  be — 
Well,  what  then? 

Litizki  put  on  a  long  coat  with  a  high  collar  that  he 
turned  up  about  his  ears,  and  a  soft  hat  that  he  pulled 
down  over  his  eyes.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  that  led  to 
his  shop  he  met  Paul  Palovna. 

"Hello,  Litizki,  "exclaimed  the  young  man,  "where  in 


68       IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY. 

the  world  are  you  going  rigged  out  as  if  it  were  winter?' 

The  grotesque  little  figure  looked  sourly  up  at  the  in- 
quirer and  replied : 

"I  am  going  to  begin  my  work." 

"See  here.  Litizki,"  said  Paul,  seriously,  "you  mustn't 
do  anything  rash.  I  was  just  coming  to  see  you  to  give 
you  warning.  Poubalov  is  dangerous  and  very  clever. 
Don't  get  yourself  into  trouble,  and  don't  spoil  all 
chance  of  trapping  him,  if  he  has  really  got  hold  of  Stro- 
bel,  by  any  premature  act." 

The  little  tailor  reflected. 

"For  myself, "he  answered  presently,  "nothing  mat- 
ters. I  will  be  careful,  Paul  Palovna,  as  careful  as  man 
can  be  not  to  compromise  any  chances.  I  shall  act  for  my- 
self alone.  Nobody  sends  me,  nobody  influences  me.  If  I 
succeed,  we  shall  all  rejoice;  if  I  fail" — he  shrugged  his 
shoulders  significantly— "I  will  be  the  only  loser.  I  prom- 
ise you  not  to  be  rash,  Paul  Palovnft,  for  the  sake  of 
noble  Ivan  Strobel  and  his  beautiful  lady." 

Then  he  moved  away,  and  Palovna  knew  hardly 
whether  to  smile  at  his  ludicrous  make-up,  or  shudder  at 
the  purpose  that  unquestionably  lurked  in  his  thoughts. 

"I  hope  good  may  come  of  it!"  sighed  Palovna. 

Litizki  went  to  Bulfinch  Place,  and  shrinking  as  far  as 
possible  into  his  long  coat,  walked  along  on  the  sidewalk 
opposite  Poubalov 's  house.  Yes,  there  the  villain  was, 
calmly  reading  a  newspaper!  One  flight  from  the  ground, 
front  room.  At  the  side  of  the  room  was  a  smaller  one 
over  the  hall.  Litizki  knew  the  arrangement  of  the  houses 
in  that  vicinity,  and  the  blinds  of  that  room  were  closed. 
Perhaps,  though,  the  prison  chamber  would  be  in  some 
more  remote  part  of  the  house.  Time  and  the  night  would 
tell. 

The  tailor  went  to  the  corner  of  Bowdoin  Street,  and 
stood  there,  unmindful  of  the  curious  glances  of  passers^ 
until  he  saw  Poubalov  leave  the  lodging-house.  It  was 
just  possible  that  the  spy  had  his  prisoner  concealed  else- 
where, and  was  now  going  to  him.  Litizki  followed.  It  oc-i 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY.  69 

curred  to  him  that  now  might  be  the  time  to  get  into  the 
house  on  some  pretext  and  make  a  search,  but  he  dis- 
missed the  thought  as  ruinous.  If  Strobel  were  there,  the 
landlady  would  be  paid  to  be  watchful  during  Poubalov's 
absence.  No;  the  night  was  the  time  when  nobody  would 
be  watching,  and  when  every  corner  in  the  house  could  be 
searched  from  cellar  to  garret. 

Poubalov  went  to  State  Street,  and  entered  the  bank 
where  Strobel  had  been  employed.  He  brushed  past 
Litizki  when  he  emerged,  but  apparently  did  not  see  him. 
The  tailor  followed  him  from  one  place  to  another,  waited 
under  a  hotel  window  for  an  hour  while  the  spy  was  din- 
ing, saw  him  into  a  theatre  and  eventually  back  to  his 
lodgings,  where  he  arrived  at  about  eleven  o'clock.  It  was 
evident  that  he  went  directly  to  bed,  for  the  light  in  his 
room  was  extinguished  very  shortly  after  he  went  in. 

Litizki  then  went  to  a  cheap  restaurant,  where  he  ap- 
peased his  appetite  and  drank  several  cups  of  bad  tea.  It 
was  after  midnight  before  he  left  the  place,  and  his  one 
wish  was  that  he  had  a  dark  lantern.  To  make  up  for  his 
lack,  he  was  plentifully  supplied  with  matches. 

A  printer,  whom  Litizki  knew  by  sight,  lived  in  the 
house  adjoining  the  one  where  Poubalov  lodged.  The 
tailor  knew  that  he  ordinarily  arrived  home  at  one 
o'clock.  He  was  on  time  this  night,  antl  as  he  turned  into 
the  tiny  yard  before  the  building,  Litizki  stepped  down 
from  the  doorway. 

"I'm  glad  you've  come,"  he  said,  "I  left  my  key  in  the 
room  and  I  can't  rouse  anybody  by  ringing." 

"No,"  responded  the  printer  with  a  laugh,  "they  don't 
get  up  for  anybody.  How  long  you  been  living  here?" 

"Only  a  few  days." 

The  door  was  opened,  and  both  men  went  upstairs.  The 
printer,  with  a  cheery  "good-night,  "entered  a  room  on  the 
second  landing.  Litizki  continued  to  the  top  floor,  and 
thence  through  a  skylight  to  the  roof.  Fortune  was,  in- 
deed, favoring  him.  He  had  supposed  the  skylight  would 
be  raised  for  the  sake  of  ventilation.  There  had  been 


70  IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY. 

doubt  whether  the  steps  leading  to  it  would  be  in  place. 

He  cared  little  whether  the  skylight  on  the  adjoining 
roof  would  be  found  open  and  the  steps  in   place,  or  not; 
he  would  get  in  in  any  event.     Both  were  in  just  the  con-| 
dition  most  favorable  to  his  project,  and  a  moment  lateri 
Litizki  had  struck  a  match  and  was  peering  about  in  an 
empty  room  on  the  top  floor  of  Poubalov's  lodging  house. 

The  little  tailor  exulted  more  and  more  as  he  crept  down 
the  stairs  after  examining  every  room.  Not  a  sleeper 
had  been  awakened,  not  a  door  had  been  found  locked. 
He  would  search  the  whole  house  before  trying  the  door 
to  the  hall  room  adjoining  Poubalov's.  That  would  be 
found  locked.  He  had  no  doubt  he  should  pick  the  lock, 
for  he  had  skeleton  keys  in  his  pocket,  and  if  not — a  vig-j 
orous  shove  and  he  would  burst  it  open.  What  cared  he 
for  details  at  the  very  end  of  his  search? 

He  had  come  to  the  floor  above  the  spy's  room.  Here, 
as  before,  every  door  was  unlocked,  most  of  the  rooms 
empty.  He  had  just  extinguished  a  match  preparatory  to 
descending  further,  when  from  somewhere  out  of  the 
darkness  heavy  hands  were  laid  upon  him  and  he  was 
borne  to  the  floor.  Another  instant  and  a  hand  was  pressed 
upon  his  mouth  and  there  was  a  dazzling  flash  of  light 
from  a  dark  lantern  held  over  him. 

Litizki  saw  the  cruel  eyes  of  Alexander  Poubalov  glar-j 
ing  down,  and  then  the  slide  of  the  lantern  was  closed 
again. 


LITIZKI' S  LESSON.  72 


CHAPTER  IX. 

LITIZKl'S     LESSON. 

There  had  been  no  scuffle  and  almost  no  noise  as  the 
tailor  fell  to  the  floor,  but  one  of  the  chamber  doors 
opened,  nevertheless,  and  a  startled  voice  asked:  "What's 
that?" 

"Sorry  you've  been  disturbed,"  said  Poubalov;  "a 
friend  of  mine,  with  a  little  more  of  a  load  than  he  could 
manage,  has  stumbled.  That's  all.  I  will  look  out  for 
him." 

The  inquirer  went  back  to  bed  grumbling,  and  as  soon 
as  the  door  closed  Poubalov  whispered  in  Eussian:  "Will 
you  keep  quiet,  or  shall  I  have  to  quiet  you?"  and  he  re- 
moved his  hand  from  Litizki's  mouth. 

"It's  all  one  to  me,  Alexander  Poubalov,"  muttered  the 
tailor,  and,  feeling  the  pressure  removed,  he  rose  to  his 
feet.  Still  speaking  Russian,  the  spy  remarked: 

"You  are  so  good  at  finding  your  way  in  the  dark  that  I 
will  not  pull  the  slide  of  my  lantern.  I  should  dislike,  for 
your  sake,  to  have  you  recognized.  Go  down  and  enter  my 
room." 

Litizki  felt  for  the  banister,  and,  guided  by  it,  walked 
down  the  flight  and  opened  the  door,  as  directed,  into  his 
captor's  room.  When  Poubalov  came  in  he  closed  and 
bolted  the  door,  then  opened  the  lantern  and  let  its  rays 
fall  on  Litizki  from  head  to  feet,  and  head  again,  as  if  he 
were  curiously  studying  the  make-up.  He  laughed  softly 
at  last  and  said : 

"There's  a  chair  just  back  of  you.     Sit  down." 

The  tailor  sank  into  it,  and  Poubalov  lit  the  gas.  In  the 
general  light  Litizki  saw  that  the  spy  was  fully  dressed 
save  for  his  coat,  and  that  the  folding  bed  which  was  a 


72  LITIZKPS  LESSON. 

feature  of  the  furniture  had  not  been  let  down.    Poubalov 
noticed  Litizki's  glance  and  understood : 

"No,  iny  friend,"  he  said  suavely,  "I  did  not  go  to  bed. 
I  expected  you,  and  sat  up  to  receive  you." 

Litizki  groaned.  Until  then  he  had  hoped  desperately 
that  even  as  a  prisoner  he  would  be  able  to  accomplish 
something ;  now,  convinced  that  the  spy  had  prepared 
for  his  coming,  he  realized  that  his  effort  had  been  in 
vain.  The  awful  sense  of  the  unshakable  power  this  man 
represented  and  wielded  came  over  him  as  it  did  in  those 
gloomy  days  in  Russia  when  he  had  to  choose  between 
voluntary  exile  and  certain  banishment. 

Poubalov  drew  a  chair  to  a  little  table  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  and  sat  down  opposite  the  tailor. 

"Nicholas  Litizki,"  he  said,  "you  have  surprised  and 
grieved  me!  I  would  not  have  supposed  that  even  a  resi- 
dence of  several  years  in  America  could  have  made  you 
forget  that  Alexander  Poubalov  never  takes  a  step  until 
lie  is  thoroughly  prepared  for  it.  I,  who  hardly  know 
what  the  word  emotion  means,  am  almost  hurt.  Surely  it 
must  be  that  contact  with  republican  institutions  deadens 
a  man's  sensibilities  and  affects  his  memory." 

Litizki's  small  eyes  had  been  fixed  upon  those  of  his  ad- 
versary from  the  beginning.  They  had  relapsed  to  their 
customary  dull  expression,  but  they  glowed  faintly  with 
new  life,  for,  the  first  edge  of  his  disappointment  dulled, 
he  recalled  the  two  great  purposes  for  which  he  had  in- 
vaded the  house:  vengeance  and  the  rescue  of  Ivan  Stro- 
bel.  Neither  purpose  might  be  lost,  and  if  he  must  forego 
or  postpone  vengeance,  he  would  not  prejudice  what 
means  others  might  have  at  command  for  saving  his  ben- 
efactor. 

"Poubalov,"  said  the  tailor,  "1  am  an  American  citi- 
zen." 

"I  bow  to  your  discretion,"  responded  the  spy,  "but  I 
knew  it.  You  think  to  hide  behind  the  generous  skirts  of 
your  adopted  country's  goddess.  Good!  I  admit  the  effi- 
cacy of  the  refuge,  for  the  accredited  agent  of  the  czar- 


LITIZKPS  LESSON.  73 

whom  God  preserve,  Nicholas  Litizki — will  do  nothing  in 
a  friendly  country  in  violation  of  that  country's  laws.  But 
see,  iny  friend,  what  a  tower  of  strength  a  proper  respect 
for  the  law  becomes:  I  not  only  knew  you  were  coining, 
but  I  knew  what  you  were  coming  for,  and  1  need  not  say 
that  I  knew  what  way  you  would  take.  I  have  kept  within 
the  law,  and  yet  1  found  out  aU  about  you  and  your  asso 
ciates  before  I  had  been  in  Boston — no  matter  how  long. 
Poor  fellow !  did  you  really  think  that  Poubalov's  eyes  did 
not  penetrate  your  flimsy  disguise?  I  am  sorry,  Litizki; 
your  patience  and  devotion  would  fit  you  for  service  in 
the  holy  cause  of  the  czar,  and  it  is  not  at  all  adapted  to 
pursuing  the  steps  of  honest  men." 

"You  do  not  frighten  me,"  interposed  Litizki;  "I  know 
your  superlative  cunning  and  your  crooked  ways.  Your 
speech  nauseates  me.  'Honest  men!'  Bah!" 

"We  won't  dispute  over  trifles,  then.  I  simply  call  to 
your  attention  the  fact  that  you  unlawfully  invade  a 
dwelling-house,  prowling  about  like  a  common  thief  and 
thus  place  yourself  unreservedly  in  my  power.  Of  course, 
Nicholas  Litizki  did  not  enter  enter  here  to  commit  theft. 
He  came  to  find  his  friend,  Ivan  Strobel." 

"It  is  a  lie,  Alexander  Poubavol!  I  sought  him  not." 

"You  know  whether  it  is  a  lie,  or  not.  So  do  I.  There- 
fore we  will  not  argue  the  matter.  Well,  what  are  you  go- 
ing to  do  now  that  you  are  here?" 

Litizki  boiled  with  futile  rage.  He  was  trapped  not 
only  literally  as  Poubalov's  prisoner,  but  he  felt  how 
weak  he  was  in  any  contest  of  words  with  this  shrewd 
master  of  deceit.  He  had  spoken  truly  in  telling  Paul  Pa- 
lovna  that  it  mattered  not  what  became  of  him,  and  al- 
though those  words  were  uttered  under  the  influence  of 
a  desire  for  vengeance  that  constant  dwelling  upon  had 
turned  to  conviction  that  he  would  succeed,  he  now  felt 
them  to  be  as  true,  for  he  despaired,  as  he  had  been  de- 
spairing for  years,  of  accomplishing  anything  that  would 
be  worth  the  doing.  Why  had  he  presumed  to  undertake 
the  hopeless  task  of  outwitting  Poubalov?  He  saw  how 


74  LITIZKPS  LESSON. 

wildly  foolish  had  been  his  course,  but  his  conviction  re- 
mained unshaken. 

"Have  it  so,  then,"  he  hissed;  "respect  for  law  is  not  in 
your  character.  You  have  unlawfully  taken  possession  of 
IvanStrobel." 

"Yes?"  responded  Poubalov  quietly;  "you  are  very 
sure  of  that?" 

"I  know  it,  yes;  I  did  coine  here  to  find  him,  to  liber- 
ate, ay,  to  kill  you  if  need  be!" 

"Indeed!  the  same,  familiar  antagonism  to  the  author- 
ity of  Russia,  I  suppose.  The  Russian  agent  is  to  you  like 
the  red  flag  to  the  bull.  Yes,  very  interesting.  Well,  Li- 
tizki?" 

"Alexander  Poubalov!"  exclaimed  the  tailor,  rising  and 
speaking  with  all  his  long-treasured  bitterness,  "you  have 
Ivan  Strobel,  an  American  citizen,  in  your  power;  you  re- 
strain him  illegally  of  his  liberty,  with  what  purpose  it 
matters  not.  I,  as  an  American  citizen,  demand  that  you 
release  him." 

Poubalov  looked  with  mock  admiration  at  the  fierce  but 
grotesque  figure  before  him,  and  said : 

"Good!  very  good!  I  am  not  certain  but  that  demand 
is  good  law.  I  shall  have  to  think  of  it.  When,  Nicholas 
Litizki?" 

"I  cannot  tolerate  your  smart  language,"  returned  Li- 
tizki; "give  him  up  now.  It  will  be  worse  for  you  if  you 
fool  with  me.  You  threw  me  down  in  the  dark  because  I 
was  taken  unawares.  In  the  light  I  can  make  my  own 
fight,  Alexander  Poubalov!  Como!  Ivan  Strobel  is  in  that 
room,  behind  that  door,  and  if  you  have  not  stopped  his 
ears  as  you  have  gagged  his  mouth  and  bound  his  limbs, 
he  hears  my  voice  now  and  knows  it.  I  should  be  less 
than  man  should  I  not  take  even  a  desperate  step  to  res- 
cue him,  my  friend,  my  benefactor!" 

Even  to  the  cynical  spy  the  grotesqueness  of  the  little 
tailor's  figure  and  make-up  disappeared  in  the  exaltation 
up  to  which  his  emotions  bore  him.  He  took  one  deter- 
mined stride  toward  the  door  to  the  little  hall  room. 


LITIZKPS  LESSON.  75 

"Nicholas  Litizki,"  said  Poubalov,  softly. 

The  tailor  turned,  such  was  the  compelling  power  of 
that  deep  voice,  and  for  the  instant  his  progress  was 
checked.  Poubalov  had  extended  one  arm  upon  the  table 
and  his  hand  was  toying  with  a  revolver. 

"I  believe  you,  my  friend, "  remarked  the  spy,  hardly 
looking  toward  the  tailor  at  first,  but  later  concentrating 
his  gleaming  eyes  upon  him,  "I  believe  you  when  you 
say  by  actions  if  not  by  words  that  you  would  die  for 
your  friend,  and  that  you  do  not  care  what  becomes  of 
you.  But  you  have  some  degree  of  cleverness,  Litizki. 
We  learned  that  years  ago.  Listen,  then,  just  a  moment 
before  you  lay  hand  upon  that  door.  It  is  locked,  Litizki. 
Before  you  could  open  it  I  could  put  a  bullet  through 
your  heart.  Would  I  not  dare?  What  should  a  peaceable 
lodger  not  do  to  a  man  who  stealthily  enters  his  house  by 
night?  Who  would  disbelieve  me  if  I  should  calmly  re- 
port to  the  police  that  you  came  as  a  burglar,  and  that  I 
shot  at  you  in  protection  of  property  and  life?  Suppose, 
however,  that  I  prefer  to  avoid  a  disturbance.  Before 
you  could  more  than  wrench  the  knob  of  that  door  once,  I 
could  pierce  your  heart  silently." 

Poubalov  rose  and  stood  towering  over  Litizki,  a  knife 
glistening  in  his  right  hand. 

"You  know  something  of  my  resources,"  he  continued, 
"and  whether  I  would  be  likely  to  find  difficulty  'in.  dis- 
posing of  your  lifeless  body.  Why !  you  have  come  so 
secretly  that  you  and  I  alone  know  of  your  whereabout. 
We  would  then  have  another  disappearance  to  add  to  the 
Strobel  mystery,  but  one  that  would  not  be  half  as  inter- 
esting, Litizki,  not  half." 

"You  have  killed  Ivan  Strobel!"  whispered  Litizki, 
shrinking  away. 

"In  that  inference,"  said  Pou«balov,  contemptuously,  as 
he  laid  his  weapons  on  the  table  and  resumed  his  seat, 
"your  madness  reaches  its  climax  and  you  will  speedily 
recover.  You  will  not  go  to  that  door  now.  You  see  how 
useless  it  would  be.  Live,  and  you  may  yet  see  your 


76  LITIZKPS  LESSON. 

friend,  may  yet  assist  in  liberating  him.  Understand  me, 
Nicholas  Litizki:  I  have  not  come  to  this  country  for 
nothing.  I  have  a  mission  to  perform,  and  nothing  shall 
prevent  me  from  performing  it,  and  in  my  own  way." 

4 'You  will  then  keep  Strohel  a  prisoner, "  muttered  Li- 
tizki, "until  you  have  wrung  from  him  by  cruelty  what 
you  have  come  for?" 

"I  shall  perform  my  mission.  Now  it  would  be  per- 
fectly easy  for  me  to  remove  you,  for  you  are  making 
yourself  an  obstacle,  a  slight  one,  to  my  plans.  It  pleases 
me  better,  however,  that  you  should  live,  and  you  may 
yet  be  an  assistance  to  me.  I  will  show  you  to  the  street 
door  whenever  you  feel  ready  to  depart." 

Litizki  shot  a  glance  full  of  evil  at  his  captor,  but  1*011- 
balov  ignored  it,  and  calmly  lighted  the  inevitable  cigar- 
ette. 

"  Very  well,  Alexander  Poubalov,"  said  Liti/ki  after  a 
moment,  "you  may  let  me  go,  but  expect  no  gratitude 
from  mo.  I  know  only  too  well  that  you  think  to  servo 
your  foul  purposes  by  my  liberty,  but,  weak  as  I  am,  I 
.shall  not  rest  until  Sfcrobel  is  restored  to  us  or  his  fa  to 
made  known,  and  even  after  that  I  shall  pursue  you ! 
You  teach  mo  a  lesson,  Poubalov,  a  hard  one,  but  I  shall 
learn  it." 

"I  hope  you  will.  Life  will  be  easier  if  you  do.  Must 
you  go  now?  Permit  me, "  and  with  a  fine  pretense  at 
courtesy  he  unbolted  the  door  and  accompanied  Litizki  to 
tho  street  door,  which  he  also  opened. 

"Good-night,  Nicholas  Litizki,"  he  whispered  as  he 
withdrew  again  into  the  house. 

It  was  Litizki's  purpose  to  go  at  once  to  the  house  where 
Paul  Palovna  lodged,  rouse  him,  and  tell  him  his  experi- 
ence, with  all  the  admissions  that  Poubalov  had  seemed 
to  make,  and  all  the  inferences  that  were  to  be  drawn 
from  his  remarks  and  innuendoes ;  but  as  he  hurried  along 
in  the  cool  night  air  he  felt  as  if  something  were  leaving 
him.  He  slackened  his  pace,  halted  irresolutely,  went  on  a 
few  steps,  and  at  last  leaned  heavily  against  a  building 


L1TIZKTS  LESSON.  77 

and  struck  his  hand  angrily  against  his  brow,  muttering : 

"Fool,  fool!" 

What  was  this  sense  of  loss  but  a  relief  from  the  domi- 
nating influence  of  Poubalov's  stronger  personality? 
There,  with  all  his  desperation,  even  at  the  height  of  his 
exaltation,  when  he  seemed  to  tread  the  border  lands  of 
heroism,  he  had  halted  at  a  single  word  from  the  spy.  He 
had  stood  and  listened  to  threats  and  sophistry,  and  had 
been  moved  by  the  one  and  convinced  by  the  other. 

No!  he  could  not  tell  all  this  to  Palovna,  or  to  any 
other  person  except  Strobel ;  to  him,  if  he  should  ever  re- 
turn, he  would  make  a  full  confession  of  his  defeat.  For 
the  present  he  must  keep  it  to  himself,  and  if  he  would 
still  do  something  to  effect  his  vengeance  and  rescue 
Strobel,  he  must  work  in  secret.  And  as  he  reflected  that 
it  was  just  this  course  that  Poubalov  undoubtedly  ex- 
pected him  to  take,  he  groaned  and  slunk  abashed  and 
mortified  to  his  lonely  room. 

In  the  early  morning,  without  waiting  to  read  newspa- 
pers, or  submit  to  interviews  from  reporters,  should  they 
call  again  at  the  house,  Clara  and  Louise  set  forth  to  fin- 
ish their  search  for  the  "second  driver."  Again  they  had 
a  tedious,  fruitless  experience.  Now  and  again  it  seemed 
momentarily  as  if  they  had  come  upon  a  clew  to  the  man, 
but  Clara's  keen  questions  invariably  brought  them  to  the 
same  disappointing  end.  By  noon  they  had  visited  every 
livery  stable  in  Boston. 

"Don't  think  me  unkind,  Clara,"  ventured  Louise,  "but 
I  fear  we  ought  to  give  this  up.  I  don't  know  that  I  can 
say  just  why,  for  I  sympathize  with  you  as  deeply  as  ever, 
and,  like  you,  I  believe  in  Ivan;  but  somehow  I  fear." 

"There  are  the  stables  in  Cambridge  and  Somerville, " 
responded  Clara,  absently;  "we  haven't  been  there.  For- 
give me,  dear!  I  didn't  mean  to  ignore  what  you  said. 
We  are  both  tired.  I  had  meant  to  call  at  Mrs.  White's 
before  returning,  but  we  will  go  home  and  rest,  and  see  if 
fresh  thinking  will  help  us.  There  may  be  some  word  at 
home  by  this  time." 


78  LITIZKPS  LESSON. 

There  was,  indeed,  some  word  at  home.  The  servant 
reported  that  Detective  Bowker  had  called  and  would  be 
glad  to  see  Miss  Hilman,  should  she  care  to  go  downtown 
during  this  afternoon ;  and  there  were  many  letters  from 
friends  who  had  learned  of  her  trouble.  All  except  one 
were  more  or  less  sympathetic,  but  in  more  than  one 
there  was  a  veiled  remonstrance  against  her  taking  such 
a  vigorous  and  public  part  in  the  case. 

The  exception  was  unsigned  and  without  date.     It  road : 

"If  Miss  Hilman  insists  on  being  convinced  with  ter  own  eyes  that 
her  'lover'  has  been  false,  if  she  needs  more  proof  to  cause  her  to 
withdraw  from  the  ridiculous  attitude  she  has  assumed,  why  doesn't 
she  go  to  New  York  and  find  Lizzie  White?  The  writer  is  certain  that 
she  would  return  fully  satisfied." 


COEUOBOEATIVE  DETAIL.  79 


CHAPTER  X. 

CORROBORATIVE   DETAIL. 

Clara  had  not  corne  sufficiently  in  contact  with  the  evil 
side  of  human  nature  to  ignore  an  anonymous  letter.  She 
felt  all  the  contempt  for  the  writer  that  he  or  she  de- 
served, and  she  spurned  the  suggestion  contained  in  the 
letter  as  utterly  unworthy  of  a  moment's  attention.  Yet 
the  sting  was  there.  She  might  ignore  the  letter  to  all  ap- 
pearances, and  yet  not  be  able  to  forget  it.  The  cruelty  of 
the  writer  was  what  she  felt,  not  the  force  of  the  blow. 

"I  cannot  understand,"  she  said,  laying  the  letter  down 
and  taking  a  newspaper,  "how  a  person  can  go  out  of  his 
way  for  the  sole  purpose  of  doing  an  unkind  thing." 

"What  is  it,  dear?"  asked  Louise,  stopping  on  her  way 
out  of  the  room. 

Clara  started  to  show  her  the  letter,  but,  overcome  by  a 
sense  of  repugnance  for  it,  answered : 

"Let  it  pass  until  after  luncheon.  We  shall  have  a  great 
deal  to  talk  of  then." 

So  Clara  was  left  alone  with  the  newspapers,  and  she 
read  them  with  amazement  and  consternation.  At  the 
very  first  there  was  a  little  relief  at  finding  no  flaring 
headlines  on  the  first  page,  for  she  had  no  enjoyment  in 
the  notoriety  that  the  case  thrust  upon  her.  She  bore  it 
simply  as  one  of  the  unavoidable  features  of  the  situa- 
tion. As  she  searched  the  first  paper,  the  relief  vanished, 
and  in  its  place  came  a  growing  wonder.  The  reports  of 
the  abandoned  wedding  had  been  set  forth  in  complete 
detail  with  every  expansion  that  fertile  brains  could  sug- 
gest, as  if  every  city  editor  had  said  to  his  reporter, 
"We'll  stand  all  you  can  write."  It  had  been  the  impor- 
tant news  feature  of  the  day,  and  to  Clara  it  had  seemed 


80  CORROBORATIVE  DETAIL. 

as  if  ever3r  newspaper  in  the  city  had  undertaken  to  solve 
the  mystery.  Where,  then,  was  the  long  account  of  the 
second  day's  developments? 

Tucked  obscurely  away  in  the  middle  of  a  page  devoted 
to  a  miscellaneous  assortment  of  news,  she  found  a,t  last 
a  few  paragraphs  setting  forth  the  conclusions  of  the  de- 
tective bureau,  that  there  was  no  financial  irregularity  to 
be  attributed  to  Mr.  Strobel,  and  that  the  missing  man 
had  undoubtedly  eloped  with  Lizzie  White.  MissHilman's 
health  was  reported  to  be  good,  and  it  was  noted  that 
she  had  taken  a  personal  hand  in  the  investigation  with 
every  appearance  of  confidence  in  the  loyalty  of  her  be- 
trothed. 

Clara  found  longer  reports  in  the  other  papers,  and  the 
one  that  had  published  the  first  intimation  of  the  elope- 
ment, continued  to  make  it  the  sensation  of  the  hour, 
but  it  was  a  labored  effort,  devoted  quite  as  much  to  ex- 
ploiting its  own  enterprise  in  beating  the  other  papers  as 
to  setting  forth  the  news. 

So,  then,  the  community,  of  which  the  newspapers  were 
the  reflection,  had  contentedly  accepted  the  first  solution 
that  offered,  and  all  her  work  had  gone  for  nothing,  worse 
than  nothing,  for  she  found  herself  pictured  as  a  pitiable 
victim  to  her  lover's  faithlessness.  The  very  fact  that  the 
reporters  refrained  from  bringing  out  the  picture  of  her 
misery  in  strong  colors  was  evidence  of  the  sincerity  with 
which  they  wrote.  They  were  satisfied  that  Ivan  had 
eloped !  To  tell  how  loyally  she  had  clung  to  him  would 
be  to  put  her  in  a  ridiculous  light  before  all  readers. 

The  tears  that  came  to  Clara's  eyes  were  angrily  dashod 
away  at  first,  but  they  would  flow,  and  after  a  moment  she 
gave  full  vent  to  them.  Her  experience  was  one  that 
comes  only  to  those  who  have  to  suffer  such  great  calami- 
ties that  for  the  time  all  Ijfe  seems  to  be  centered  upon 
them,  and  the  awaking  to  the  cold  fact  that  all  life  runs 
along  just  as  before,  and  the  great  calamity  speedily  be- 
comes an  event  of  yesterday,  is  almost  as  hard  to  bear  as 
ttie  original  shock.  This  awakening  with  Clara  was  coin- 


CORE  OB  OEA  TIVE  DETAIL.  81 

cident  to  a  fresh  determination  to  continue  her  search. 
The  world  might-  laugh  if  it  chose  to  be  so  cruel ;  she  be- 
lieved in  her  lover  and  would  yet  find  him. 

The  bell  had  rung  for  luncheon,  and  drying  her  eyes, 
Clara  went  into  the  dining  room.  Her  uncle  was  already 
at  the  table.  His  greeting  was  constrained  but  not  lack- 
ing in  affection  and  sympathy. 

"Don't  you  think  it  would  be  better,  Clara,"  he  said 
gently  after  they  had  exchanged  a  few  words,  "to  with- 
draw for  a  while  from  public  view?  I  am  afraid  you  are 
doing  no  good,  and  I  will  not  conceal  from  you  that  I  re- 
gard your  loyal  search  as  hopeless.  I  am  getting  to  be  an 
old  man,  and  I  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  the  world,  as  we 
reckon  it  by  the  human  beings  who  populate  it.  This 
blow  that  has  fallen  upon  you  has  fallen  on  others  before 
your  time,  and  it  will  fall  again.  This  that  seems  to  you 
incredible  has  been  no  less  incredible  in  the  past " 

"Stop,  please,  uncle,''  interrupted  Clara;  "I  cannot 
draw  comparisons,  and  if  I  could  they  would  be  value-, 
less.  I  must  judge  my  affair  by  its  own  circumstances 
alone.  I  believe  Ivan  has  done  no  wrong,  and  it  is 
nothing  less  than  my  duty  to  him  and  myself  to  right  the 
wrong  that  has  been  done  to  him." 

"But  tell  me,  my  dear  child,  is  there  anything  in  the 
situation  that  promises  a  solution  other  than  that  found 
by  the  detectives  and  the  reporters?" 

"Yes,  uncle,  there  is,"  replied  Clara  in  a  low  tone,  "and 
I  am  glad  the  reporters  have  not  found  the  clew,  and  I  am 
not  sorry  that  Mr.  Bowker  missed  it,  too.  I  will  tell  you 
about  it." 

"Papa,"  said  Louise,  coming  into  the  room  at  this  mo- 
ment, "Mr.  Dexter  has  called.  1  was  coming  downstairs 
when  the  bell  rang,  and  I  answered  it.  I  showed  him  into 
the  library." 

'I  wish  he  would  confine  his  calls  to  the  office, "  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Pembroke,  impatiently.  "You  will  have  to 
excuse  me,  though,  for  I  am  obliged  to  see  him." 


82  CORROBORATIVE  DETAIL. 

"I  am  afraid  papa  is  having  a  serious  time  with  his 
business,"  said  Louise,  after  he  had  gone. 

"Everything  comes  at  once,  doesn't  it?"  responded 
Clara;  "I  am  so  sorry!  He  wants  me  to  give  up  trying  to 
find  Ivan,  dear.  It  hurts  me  to  displease  uncle,  but  what 
would  you  do?  I  think  he  would  like  to  have  me  go  away 
for  a  time." 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  that!  I  am  sure  he  feels  toward  you 
as  if  you  were  his  own  daughter." 

"I  am  sure  he  does,  Lou.  A  father  couldn't  be  more  af- 
fectionate and  kind ;  but  in  this  matter,  how  can  I  yield 
to  his  wishes?  He  does  not  know. " 

"Do  you  mean  about  Mr.  Poubalov?" 

"Partly,  but  I  had  more  in  mind  that  no  one  could  know 
Ivan's  character  as  well  as  I  do." 

Louisu  thought  of  her  own  budding  love.  If  Ralph  Har- 
mon were  under  suspicion,  could  she  fail  to  defend  him? 
Could  she  think  of  him  as  other  than  honorable  and  faith- 
ful? 

A  servant  passed  through  the  room,  and  left  the  door  in 
the  hall  carelessly  ajar.  Neither  of  the  young  ladies  no- 
ticed it. 

"Clara, "  said  Louise,  "I  should  try  to  do  just  as  you 
are  doing,  but  I  know  I  could  not  be  so  brave.  I  think  if 
you  should  tell  uncle  about  Mr.  Poubalov  it  might  make 
him  feel  better." 

"I  intend  to  do  so, "  replied  Clara,  "and  would  have 
done  so  last  evening  if  he  had  been  at  home." 

They  were  interrupted  by  Mr.  Pembroke's  voice.  He 
had  stepped  from  the  library  into  the  hall,  and  was  speak- 
ing with  ill-suppressed  anger. 

"I  won't  listen  to  anything  you  have  to  say  on  the  mat- 
ter,"  he  said,  "and  I  will  ask  you  to  confine  your  talks  to 
mo  to  business  matteis;  and  when  you  must  see  me,  go 
to  the  office." 

"Ugh!"  grunted  old  Dexter  in  reply,  "she'll  make  you 
as  ridiculous  as  she  makes  herself." 


COEEOBORATIVE  DETAIL.  83 

"Dexter,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pembroke,  "I  think  you're 
the  worst  villain  unhung!" 

"H'm,  h'm,  h'm,"  muttered  Dexter,  "you're  a  fool,  Mat 
Pembroke.  I  think  you're  a  fool!" 

The  front  door  closed  loudly  and  Mr.  Pembroke  strode 
into  the  dining-room,  where  the  young  ladies  were  look- 
ing at  each  other  with  astonished  eyes.  Mr.  Pembroke 
was  flushed,  and  he  bit  his  lip  with  added  vexation  as  he 
noticed  that  his  daughter  and  niece  had  heard  the  last 
words  of  his  conversation  with  Dexter. 

"I  am  sorry "  he  began,  his  voice  still  shaking  with 

anger.  He  did  not  complete  his  remark,  but  sat  down  and 
tried  to  eat. 

After  a  moment  Clara  rose  and  put  her  arms  softly 
about  his  neck. 

"I  am  sorry,  too,  uncle  dear,"  she  said,  "that  you  have 
so  much  trouble  about  me.  Of  course  that  vile  man  was 
speaking  of  me." 

Mr.  Pembroke  shuddered  violently  at  her  first  touch. 
He  released  her  arms  abruptly  and  stood  up. 

"No,  don't!"  he  said  with  an  expression  of  the  deepest 
pain;  "you  continue  your  search  in  your  own  way,  child. 
Don't  mind  about  me  or  anybody  else,  least  of  all  that — 
that  meddlesome  Dexter." 

"I  was  going  to  tell  you  some  of  the  information  I 
learned  yesterday,  uncle." 

"No,  no!  no,  no!  I  don't  want  to  hear  it — that  is,  not 
nocv.  Forgive  me,  child;  I  am  disturbed  by  business  mat- 
ters and  cannot  attend  to  it  nofo  This  evening  if  you  like. 
Good-by." 

He  hastened  from  the  room,  more  agitated  than  when 
he  had  come  in. 

"It's  a  shame,"  said  Clara,  bitterly,  "that  any  one  who 
is  in  trouble  has  to  annoy  all  those  who  are  near  to  her." 

"I  wouldn't  think  of  it  that  way,  dear,"  responded 
Louise;  "papa  is  as  sympathetic  as  can  be,  and  I  am  sure 
that  when  he  gets  over  his  anger  at  this  Mr.  Dexter's  in- 
terference, there  will  be  nothing  to  regret.  He  said  him- 


84  CORROBORATIVE  DETAIL. 

self,  you  know,  that  he  would   talk  with  you  this  even- 
ing." 

"I  hope  I  shall  have  something  definite  to  tell  him 
then,"  said  Clara.  "Will  you  go  downtown  with  me  again 
this  afternoon?" 

Of  course  she  would,  and  in  due  time,  therefore,  the 
young  ladies  were  again  at  police  headquarters.  Detective 
Bowker  was  evidently  highly  pleased  with  himself,  al- 
though he  manfully  tried  to  suppress  any  signs  of  triumph. 

"I  called  at  your  house  this  forenoon,  Miss  Hilman,"  he 
said,  "to  inform  you  that  the  driver  of  the  closed  car- 
riage has  been  found." 

"What  does  he  say?"  asked  Clara  eagerly. 

"He  corroborates  what  I  told  you  yesterday.' 

"Does  he  say  that  he  drove  Mr.  Strobel  to  the  Park 
Square  Station?" 

"Yes,  just  as  I  told  you." 

"Can  I  see  him?" 

"I  have  no  doubt  you  will  be  able  to  do  so.  He  is  not 
here  now.  He  has  gone  about  his  work,  but  I  can  have 
him  here  at  any  time,  or  he  will  call  on  you.  He  suggested 
that  himself  when  I  told  him  that  you  would  be  pretty 
likely  to  doubt  his  story." 

"I  should  like  to  see  him,"  said  Clara,  her  voice  faint 
and  tremulous  in  spite  of  herself.  "WThen  did  you  find 
him,  Mr.  Bowker?" 

"Well,  as  to  that,"  replied  the  detective,  reluctantly, 
"Billings  came  in  here  early  this  morning.  You  know  I 
said  that  might  happen." 

"Yes.    What  stable  does  he  drive  for?" 

"What  stable?"  echoed  Bowker  with  his  stare  of  sur- 
prise; "why  should  you  ask  that,  Miss  Hilman?" 

"Because  I  have  visited  every  stable  in  Boston  to  find 
whether  any  employee  could  have  been  driving  a  closed 
carriage  along  Park  Street  at  the  hour  when  the  wheel  of 
Mr.  Strobel's  coupe  came  off." 

"Whew!  you  did  mean  business,  didn't  you?"  ex- 
claimed Bowker  with  evident  admiration.  "It's  a  pity  you 


CORROBORATIVE  DETAIL.  85 

had  such  a  time  of  it.  Billings  drove  his  own  carriage.  He 
wasn't  connected  with  any  of  the  stables." 

"I  am  glad  to  know  that  my  search  did  not  fail 
through  any  lack  of  thorough  inquiry, "  said  Clara,  and 
she  felt  her  courage  reviving.  "Will  you  send  word  to 
this  Mr.  Billings  that  I  would  like  to  see  him?" 

"Certainly.    When  shall  I  tell  him  to  call?" 

"Any  time  this  evening.  And,  Mr.  Bowker,  can  you  not 
give  me  the  name  of  the  man  who  said  he  saw  Mr.  Strobel 
buy  a  ticket  for  New  York?" 

"I  cannot  do  so.  The  fact  is,  we  haven't  the  name.  I 
expected  to  get  it,  honestly  I  did,  for  I  heard  that  Strobel 
was  recognized  in  the  station  by  a  friend;  but  that  friend 
hasn't  turned  up;  and,  to  tell  you  the  plain  truth,  we 
don't  think  it  necessary  to  inquire  for  him." 

"It  seems  to  me "  began  Clara,  stopping  and  reflect- 
ing. She  was  going  to  protest  against  the  imperfect  char- 
acter of  the  investigation,  but  she  thought  better  of  it. 
This  detective  unquestionably  had  no  interest  to  find  other 
than  the  truth,  and  with  his  low  conceptions  of  character, 
due  doubtless  to  his  frequent  contact  with  criminals,  it 
would  be  but  natural  for  him  to  see  no  other  explanation 
for  Ivan's  disappearance  than  the  one  to  substantiate 
which  he  had  obtained  a  certain  amount  of  evidence.  If 
even  her  good  uncle  were  disposed  to  view  the  idea  of  the 
elopement  as  a  possibility,  nay,  as  a  probability,  what  bet- 
ter could  be  expected  of  one  to  whom  Ivan  was  merely  a 
man  like  other  men?  And  the  evidence  of  the  "second 
driver"  which  was  undoubtedly  straightforward Per- 
haps Ivan  had  gone  to  New  York.  How  could  she  tell? 

Not  with  Lizzie  White,  of  course,  but She  would  talk 

with  the  driver. 

"I  shall  be  greatly  obliged,"  she  concluded,  "if  you  will 
send  me  word  should  any  new  development  turn  up.  I 
don't  suppose  I  can  expect  you  to  pay  any  further  atten- 
tion to  the  case." 

"We  may  hear  from  New  York  at  any  time,"  replied 


86  CORROBORATIVE    DETAIL. 

Bowker;  "the  police  there  are  on  the  lookout  for  Strobel, 
and  if  we  hear  anything  I  will  let  you  know." 

Louise  tucked  her  arm  affectionately  within  Clara's, 
and  asked: 

"Where  now,  dear?" 

4 'We  will  go  to  Mrs.  White's,"  responded  Clara,  drear- 
ily. Her  faith  was  yet  undisturbed,  but  the  mystery 
seemed  the  darker,  for  if  the  wily  Russian  had  had  to  do 
with  Ivan's  departure,  how  much  harder  it  would  be  to 
find  him  in  New  York  than  in  Boston !  Then,  had  he  gone 
voluntarily,  might  it  not  be  possible  that  he  did  not  wish 
her  to  search  for  him?  Surely  he  would  write  if  he  could. 
With  that  thought,  and  a  renewed  conviction  that  Ivan 
was  somehow  constrained  of  his  liberty,  she  arrived  at 
Mrs.  White's  house. 

"I'm  so  glad  to  see  you,"  cried  the  landlady,  "with  all 
this  talk  in  the  papers.  I  have  heard  from  Lizzie.  See! 
Here  is  the  letter." 

She  handed  a  sheet  of  paper  to  Clara.  It  was  not  a  long 
letter,  but  what  little  there  was  was  rambling  in  style.  It 
was  dated  from  Second  Avenue,  New  York,  and  stated 
that  the  writer  had  found  a  new  home. 

"I  should  be  happy,"  she  wrote,  "if  it  wasn't  for  the 
way  I  had  to  go.  But  there  wasn't  any  other  way.  After 
a  while  I  shall  tell  you  all  about  it." 

Clara  's  quick  perceptions  told  her  that  any  person  with 
the  elopement  explanation  in  his  head  would  see  a  signifi- 
cance in  these  words  that  could  not  fail  to  reflect  unfavor- 
ably upon  Ivan. 

"Mrs.  White,"  she  said  tremulously,  "you  won't  show 
this  letter  to  reporters,  or  detectives,  or  any  body  else,  will 
you?" 

J 


t 

v  / 


STRANGE  EXIT  OF  POUBALOV.  87 


CHAPTER  XI. 

STRANGE  EXIT  OF  POUBALOV. 

"I  had  already  shown  it  to  Mr.  Bowker, "  replied  Mrs. 
White,  anxiously;  "I  thought  it  might  convince  him  that 
Lizzie  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  disappearance  of  Mr. 
Strobel." 

"It  didn't  convince  him,"  said  Clara,  bitterly;  "but  no 
matter.  May  I  copy  Miss  Lizzie's  address?" 

"Of  course.     Are  you  going  to  write  to  her?" 

"Perhaps  so.     Have  you  written  yet?" 

"I  haven't  had  time,  but  I  shall  do  so  this  afternoon.  Is 
there  something  you  would  like  to  have  me  say?" 

Clara  was  intent  with  her  thoughts. 

"Mrs.  White,"  she  said  presently,  "if  you  write  to- 
night, could  you  omit  any  reference  to  Mr.  Strobel?" 

"Land  sakes!"  exclaimed  the  good  lady;  "whatever 
should  I  write  about  then?  With  Lizzie's  name  in  the 
papers,  and  everybody  believing  that  she  ran  away  with 
Mr.  Strobel,  what  should  I  say?" 

"I  suppose  it  would  be  hard  to  ignore  it  ajtogether,  but 
couldn't  you  omit  saying  anything  of  the  rumors  that 
have  connected  their  names?" 

"Why,  I'll  try  to,  Miss  Hilman,  but  Lizzie  will  have  to 
know  about  it  some  time."  . 

"Certainly,  when  you  write  to-morrow  you  can  say 
what  you  please  about  it.  Just  for  to-day  I  wish  you 
wouldn't.  I'll  come  down  early  to-morrow  morning,  and 
perhaps  I  will  be  able  to  tell  you  a  great  deal  more  than 
you  know  now,  more  than  any  of  us  know." 

"I  do  hope  you  will  hear  something  definite,"  said  Mrs. 
White,  "for  you  can't  tell  how  much  easier  I  am  to  know 
that  Lizzie's  settled  somewhere,  that  she's  alive  and  in  a 


88  STRANGE  EXIT  OF  PO  UBAL  O  V. 

home.    If  you  only  knew  that  Mr.  Strohel  was  sick  in  a 
hospital,  now,  it  would  be  better,  wouldn't  it?" 

"Nothing  is  so  dreadful  as  uncertainty,"  replied  Clara; 
"you'll  be  very  careful  what  you  write  then?" 

"As  for  that,  Miss  Hilman,  I  don't  see  that  I  need  to 
write  at  all  to-day.  It's  only  a  day  more,  and  if  you  say  it 
won't  make  any  difference  to  you  what  I  say  to-morrow, 
I'll  put  it  off  till  then  if  you  like." 

"I  should  be  so  much  obliged!  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Li- 
tizki  to-day?" 

"No,  nor  the  dark  gentleman,  either.  Mr.  Litizki's  shop 
is  not  far  from  here,  if  you'd  like  to  see  him." 

Clara  inquired  the  way,  and  soon  after  the  young  ladies 
set  out  for  the  little  tailor's  place  of  business. 

Litizki  was  his  own  master  in  business,  and  he  em- 
ployed two  or  more  fellow-countrymen  as  assistants,  the 
number  varying  with  the  demands  of  his  enterprise.  On 
this  day  there  were  several  men  in  the  shop,  but  they  were 
not  there  as  workmen.  Most  of  them  had  come  to  talk 
with  Litizki  about  the  Strobel  case.  He  was  not  very  com- 
municative, but  that  was  his  way.  Nevertheless  he  had 
some  things  to  say,  and  for  this  reason  his  acquaintances 
found  that  he  talked  much  more  freely  than  usual. 

"I  tell  you,  "he  insisted,  his  dull  eyes  glowing  with 
hate,  "Alexander  Poubalov  is  in  Boston.  I  am  not  one  to 
be  mistaken  in  that  man,  and  his  presence  here  means 
trouble  for  any,  perhaps  all  of  us." 

"What  could  he  wish  to  do  against  poor  Russians,  Nich- 
olas Litizki,  who  have  no  intention  of  revisiting  their  na- 
tive country?"  asked  one  of  the  group. 

"Better  ask  what  has  he  done?"  retorted  the  tailor. 
"Here  is  Ivan  Strobel,  more  prosperous  than  we,  with 
more  powerful  friends,  and  what  has  Poubalov  done  to 
him?  Would  that  I  knew !" 

"As  soon  as  Poubalov  appears,"  remarked  another, 
"Litizki  will  lay  the  very  next  crime  that  occurs  to  his 
hands." 

"Where  Poubalov  goes,"  said  Litizki,   "you  will  ever 


STRANGE  EXIT  OF  POUBALOV.  8y 

find  treachery  and  oppression.  It  is  not  for  you,  Peter,  to 
make  light  of  Poubalov.  You  have  felt  his  hand  as  well 
as  I." 

"Yes,"  admitted  Peter,  "but  in  the  Strobel  matter  you 
do  not  forget  what  the  police  have  discovered,  do  you? 
Well  might  you  suspect  the  dirty  spy,  were  it  not  that  one 
does  not  go  far,  it  seems,  to  find  the  woman  in  the  case." 

"Bah!"  sneered  Litizki;  do  you  forget  that  there  are  two 
women  in  the  case?  And  have  you  seen  either  of  them? 
No.  Well,  I  have  seen  both.  I  have  no  unkind  word  for 
Lizzie  White,  with  whom  they  say  he  went  away ;  but  I 
tell  you,  friends,  Ivan  Strobel  could  not  have  preferred 
her  to  Miss  Hilman."  He  pronounced  the  name  softly  as 
if  it  aroused  a  feeling  akin  to  reverence.  "You  should  see 
her, "  he  continued ;  "she  is  a  very  angel  of  beauty  and 
goodness.  Happy  would  be  the  man  whose  privilege  it 
was  simply  to  worship  her;  and  as  for  him  whom  she 
would  permit  to  love  her —  Bah !  talk  to  me  not  about  the 
woman  in  the  case  until  you  have  seen  Miss  JJilman." 

His  friends  listened  gravely.  They  found  nothing  ludi- 
crous in  Litizki 's  occasionally  extravagant  language.  When 
he  was  stirred  to  something  like  eloquence,  it  was  almost 
always  by  a  memory  of  the  wrongs  he  had  suffered,  and 
then  no  language  could  have  been  too  imaginative  to  ex- 
press the  bitterness  with  which  his  sympathetic  hearers 
listened. 

"Where  did  you  see  her,  Litizki?"  asked  one  of  them. 
*"Never  mind  now,"  he  replied;  "I  have  seen  her  since 
Strobel  disappeared.  She  is  bearing  up  bravely,  and  scorns 
the  suggestion  that  he  eloped  with  Miss  White.  She  is 
devoting  her  life  to  finding  him,  and  it  is  my  opinion  that 
every  poor  Russian  in  Boston  ought  to  do  the  same." 

He  looked  furtively  from  face  to  face  in  the  group,  to 
observe  the  effect  of  his  words.  Most  of  them  stared  at  the 
floor. 

"Strobel  was  a  good  man,"  said  one,  after  a  long  pause; 
"but  what  could  any  of  us  do?" 

"Do?"  repeated  the  tailor,  and  his  indignant  reply  died 


90  STRANGE  EXIT  OF  PO  UBALO  V. 

on  his  lips  as  he  remembered  with  sudden  distinctness  the 
fiasco  of  the  previous  night.  "We  could  at  least  watch 
Poubalov,  and  I,  for  one,  intend  to  do  so.  I  cannot  sit,  and 
cut,  and  sew,  and  think,  while  he  is  in  this  country  and 
my  friend  is  in  his  power." 

"Nicholas  Litizki,"  said  one  who  had  not  spoken  previ- 
ously, "  if  I  were  in  your  place,  I  would  let  the  Strobel 
case  take  care  of  itself." 

The  tailor  glanced  at  the  speaker. 

"You  speak  as  if  we  were  still  in  Russia,  "he  said, 
"and  you  had  authority  to  command  me." 

*' You  will  do  as  you  please,"  returned  the  other;  "but 
if  I  were  in  your  place,  I  should  keep  quiet." 

"Listen  then,  all  of  you,"   exclaimed   Litizki,  with 
ergy ;  "I  shall  not  keep  quiet.    I  shall  pursue  Poubalov.  I 
shall  do  everything  possible  to  effect  the  rescue  of   Ivan 
Strobel,  and  if  I  have  to  sacrifice  my  business  and  e\< 
thing,  and  every  chance  I  have  in   the  world,  I  shall  do 
it." 

The  door  of  the  little  workshop  opened,  and  Alexander 
Poubalov  stepped  in. 

"Good-day,  to  you,  Nicholas  Litizki,  and  friends, "he 
said  with  easy  familiarity.     "When  one  is  in  a  fort 
land,  and  has  need  of  something,  he  will  naturally  api  ly 
to  a  fellow-countryman,  will  he  not?" 

He  looked  around  at  the  group,  as  if  expecting  a  general 
assent.  The  men  looked  darkly  at  him  and  were  silent.  If 
all  had  not  seen  him  in  Russia,  they  knew  who  he  v 
and  if  there  had  been  any  doubt,  they  would  have  but 
needed  to  glance  at  Litizki  to  see  that  he  was  facing  his 
arch-enemy. 

The  tailor  rose  from  his  bench,  and  his  sallow  face  was 
deathly  pale. 

"Alexander  Poubalov,"  he  said  determinedly,  "this  is 
no  place  for  you.  You  hear  no  words  of  welcome— 

"Gently,  Litizki,  my  friend,  gently,"  interposed  the 
spy;  "I  call  simply  on  business.  I  want  clothes.  "Will  you 
make  them  for  me?" 


STRANGE  EXIT  OF  PO  UBAL  0  V.  91 

"Not  for  all  the  wealth  of  the  czar!"  returned  the  tailor, 
fiercely. 

"Then  we  will  waste  no  time  discussing  material  and 
prices.  Good-day  again, "  and  Poubalov  walked  grandly 
out. 

The  group  exchanged  inquiring  glances  in  silence  for  a 
moment,  and  then  Litizki  exclaimed: 

"You  see,  friends!  you  see!  I  was  not  mistaken  in  the 
man,  and  he  is  the  same  here  as  in  Russia — the  spy  who 
goes  everywhere  and  does  nothing.  I  don't  need  to  tell 
you  that  he  wanted  no  garments.  He  came  here  for  a  pur- 
pose, and  he  accomplished  it.  It  is  now  my  turn,  Vargo- 
vitch,  to  utter  a  warning.  Poubalov's  eyes  are  upon  you, 
and  if  I  were  you —  Bah!" 

Litizki  had  begun  to  imitate  the  serious  tone  in  which 
his  friend  had  warned  him  to  let  the  Strobel  case  alone, 
but  it  seemed  superfluous  to  suggest  a  warning  to  Vargo- 
vitch  after  he  had  himself  seen  the  spy. 

"Yes,  I  understand, "  said  Vargovitch,  "and  I  simply 
repeat  that  you'd  better  keep  out  of  the  Strobel  case." 

"Vargovitch,"  cried  Litizki,  "you  do  not  talk  like  a 
loyal  Russian.  Is  it  you  who  would  stand  by  and  let  this 
spy  work  his  will  among  us?" 

"1  have  no  more  love  for  Poubalov  and  his  work  than 
you  have,  Litizki,"  replied  Vargovitch.  "May  there  not  be 
reasons  for  my  counsel — reasons  that  you  do  not  under- 
stand?" 

Litizki  peered  at  the  speaker  silently  and  resumed  his 
work.  Vargovitch  left  the  room  and  shortly  afterward 
the  other  visitors  dispersed. 

"I  would  do  what  Vargovitch  says,  Nicholas  Litizki," 
remarked  one  of  the  tailor's  assistants. 

Litizki  worked  away  as  if  he  had  not  heard,  and  his 
thoughts  were  not  pleasant  or  hopeful.  It  had  seemed  to 
him  as  if  every  compatriot  of  his  in  the  city  would  need 
but  the  suggestion  to  unite  in  an  effort  to  outwit  Pouba- 
lov aod  rescue  Strobel.  Litizki  could  not  understand  it, 


92  STRANGE  EXIT  OF  POUBALOV. 

and  he  was  disappointed.    It  was  while  he  was  meditating 
thus  that  Clara  and  Louise  called. 

The  little  tailor  almost  blushed  as  he  left  his  bench  and 
went  to  meet  them. 

"I  should  almost  say,"  he  began  hurriedly,  after  ho 
had  awkwardly  acknowledged  their  greetings,  "that 
ought  not  to  come  here.  Are  you  aware  that  Poubalnv 
may  be,  probably  is,  watching  your  every  stop?  That 
man  has  the  eyes  of  a  thousand,  and  if  it  wore  possible  to 
throw  him  off  the  track  it  would  be  best  to  do  so.  But 
it  is  impossible.  If  you  did  not  come  here,  he  woud  find 
out  that  you  know  me,  and  he  would  infer  the  rest." 

"You  seem  troubled,  Mr.  Litizki,"  said  'Jlara,  kindly; 
"have  you,  too,  given  up  Mr.  Strobel?" 

"I?  Never!  It  is  because  I  do  not  give  him  up  that — 
well,  yes,  I  am  troubled.  Why  disguise  the  fact  that  Pou- 
balov is  a  powerful  enemy?  I  am  not  a  coward,  Miss  Hil- 
man;  my  life  is  not  worth  enough  to  me  to  make  n:<> 
care  for  it,  but  I  fear  that  man's  power  will  be  too  great 
for  the  friends  of  Ivan  Strobel." 

"You  have  seen  him,  then?" 

"Yes,  I — "  Litizki  averted  his  eyes  and  continued:  "He 
has  been  here,  to-day,  not  more  than  half  an  hour  ago." 

"I  hope,  Mr.  Litizki,"  said  Clara,  "that  you  will  not  put 
yourself  in  his  power.  If  you  feel  that  it  is  dangerous  to 
help  in  the  search  for  Mr.  Strobel,  you  must  not  do  it." 

"Dangerous?  It  is  too  late  to  think  of  that,  if  I  cared 
about  it.  That  man  has  possession  of  Mr.  Strobel,  and  will 
keep  him  until  he  has  accomplished  some  purpose.  Stro- 
bel will  not  yield. "  Litizki  paused  and  looked  gloomily 
away.  "You  see,  it  is  a  question  of  how  to  circumvent 
Poubalov,"  he  added. 

"I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Litizki,  that  your  loyalty  to  yonr 
friend  will  bring  misfortune  upon  you.  I  should  be  very 
sorry  for  that." 

"Ah,  Miss  Hilman,"  muttered  the  tailor,  and  a  sad 
wistfulness  lingered  briefly  in  his  eyes,  "you  are  worthy 


STRANGE  EXIT  OF  POUBALOV.  93 

Clara  was  deeply  touched,  and  her  voice  trembled  as 
she  said : 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Litizki.  I  hope  to  be  worthy  of  your 
kind  thoughts.  I  may  learn  something  to-night  that  will 
put  another  light  on  the  case.  Is  it  too  much  to  ask  you 
to  call  at  my  uncle's  house  some  time  during  the  even- 
ing:"' 

"Not  if  you  lived  in  Siberia,  Miss  Hilman.  Where  is  it, 
and  when  shall  I  come?" 

Clara  gave  him  the  address  and  left  him,  begging  him 
to  come  early.  When  they  were  on  the  way  home,  Louise 
said : 

"I  am  more  and  more  amazed  at  your  method  every 
day,  dear.  Have  I  not  been  good  to  listen,  and  ask  no 
questions  and  volunteer  no  advice?" 

"Too  good,  dear.  I  should  often  want  advice,  and  ask  it, 
but  that  I  fear  hurting  you  by  not  following  it.  I  must  go 
my  own  way." 

"Of  course  you  must,  but  I  was  just  leading  up  to  this 
question:  What  in  the  world  do  you  want  of  Mr.  Litizki 
this  evening?" 

"I  hardly  know  myself,  dear;  but  if  that,  'second 
driver1  calls,  I  hope  to  make  Mr.  Litizki  useful.  Will  that 
do?" 

It  had  to,  for  Clara  fell  to  thinking,  and  her  cousin  saw 
that  questions  would  be  irritating. 

Mr.  Pembroke  sent  word  from  his  office  that  he  should 
not  come  to  dinner,  and- he  had  not  arrived  when  the  ser- 
vant announced  a  caller,  and  handed  a  card  to  Clara.  It 
was  Poubalov. 

"I  suppose,"  said  Clara,  showing  not  the  least  surprise, 
"that  I'd  better  see  him  alone.  Will  you  wait  here"  (they 
were  in  the  dining-room),  "in  case  I  should  want  you?" 

Poubalov  smiled  and  his  face  looked  almost  attractive 
as  he  rose  and  bowed  when  Clara  entered  the  drawing- 
room.  At  that  instant  Clara  felt  that  but  for  his  self-con- 
fessed methods  of  deceit,  she  could  have  trusted  him,  and 


94  STRANGE  EXIT  OF  POUBALOV. 

this  in  spite  of  the  black  pictures  that   Liti'/ki   and   Paul 
Palovna  had  drawn  of  him. 

"I  am  delighted,  Miss  Hilman,"  he  said,  "to  observe 
that  you  endure  your  sorrow  and  your  remarkable  work 
so  well." 

"I  am  told  that  nothing  escapes  you,"  replied  Clara, 
"and  so  I  suppose  you  know  all  about  my  search  for  the 
driver  of  Mr.  Strobel's  second  carriage." 

"Miss  Clara,"  said  a  servant  at  the  hall  door,  "a  man 
who  says  his  name  is  Billings  wishes  to  see  you." 

"Show  him  into  the  library,  please, "  answered  Clara, 
11  ion  to  Poubalov — "Will  you  pardon  me?  This  is  the 
man  of  whom  I  was  speaking,  and  I  must  see  him." 

"Pray  do, "  responded  the  Russian;  "my  message  can 
well  wait  until  he  haa  gone." 

Clara  at  once  crossed  the  hall  into  the  library.  The  min- 
ute she  was  out  of  the  room  Poubalov  went  to  the  door 
and  cautiously  opened  it  a  little  way.  He  closed  it  quickly 
and  reflected.  Clara  had  loft  the  door  from  the  hall  in  th. 
library  wide  open,  and  the  street  door  would  be  easily 
in  view  to  anybody  in  the  library. 

Poubalov  went  from  one  to  another  of  the  several    win- 
dows and  looked  out.  From  one  at  the  side  of  the  room  ho 
saw  a  few  yards  of  turf  bounded  by  a  low  hedge,  and   be- 
yond  that   the  park-like  grounds  surrounding  a    l.-i 
dwelling.     This  window  was  partially  <•]).  n. 

Tho  spy  looked  once  more  toward  the  hall  door.  Ho  had 
irivon  his  hat  and  stio.k  to  the  servant,  and  thoy  hud    1 
placed  somewhere  in  the  hall.    fl<-  shruirijod  his  shoulders, 
pushed  the  window  furlhor  up  and  stopped  out. 

A  momenl  lalor,  Louise,  who  was  idly  ira/iuLr  out  of  iho 
dining-room  window,  was  considerably  startled   to  see  a 
man,  whom  in  the  gathering  dusk  she  could   not  re< 
nize,  leap  over  the  hedge  into  the  adjoining  grounds,  and 
disappear  behind  the  shrubbery. 


LITIZKI  BEEAKS  HIS  APPOINTMENT.  95 


CHAPTER  XII. 

LITIZKI  BREAKS  HIS  APPOINTMENT. 

In  the  brief  interval  that  elasped  between  tha  time 
when  she  turned  from  Poubalov  and  the  moment  she  en- 
tered the  library,  Clara  reflected  that  while  her  loyal 
heart  would  rebel  at  the  story  to  be  told  by  Billings,  she 
must  hear  him  patiently,  and  not  permit  her  distrust  of 
him  to  manifest  itself.  One  can  think  to  good  purpose  in 
even  so  short  a  time  as  it  takes  to  walk  across  a  room. 
Clara  was  fully  resolved  to  be  guided  by  her  reason  alone 
in  dealing  with  Billings,  and  not  to  permit  herself  to 
doubt  his  story  if  it  should  prove,  as  was  probable,  that 
what  he  had  to  say  tended  to  corroborate  the  detective's 
theory. 

Yet,  when  she  looked  at  him,  all  her  woman's  intuition 
rebelled.  She  saw  a  man  perhaps  twenty-five  years  old, 
with  nothing  whatever  remarkable  in  his  appearance;  but 
in  his  eyes  and  attitude  there  seemed  to  be  a  conscious- 
ness of  antagonism,  as  if  he  expected  to  be  doubted, 
sharply  cross-examined,  and  as  if  he  were  determined 
that  nothing  should  shake  his  story.  His  sullen,  dogged 
expression  was  a  help  to  Clara  in  conquering  her  immedi- 
ate aversion  to  him,  and  she  began  the  critical  interview 
with  a  move  that  surprised  and  embarrassed  him. 

He  was  sitting,  holding  his  hat  on  his  knees,  at  the 
farther  side  of  the  room.  Clara  crossed  directly  to  him 
with  outstretched  hand,  saying: 

"I  am  Miss  Hilman.  You  are  Mr.  Billings,  I  believe.  I 
cannot  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you.  Mr.  Bowker 
may  have  told  you  how  I  hunted  the  city  over  to  find  you. 
Sit  down,  please;  let  me  take  your  hat." 

Billings  had  risen  awkwardly  as  he  saw  that  she  was 


96  LITIZKI  BREAKS  HIS  APPOINTMENT. 

corning  toward  him,  and,  quite  unaware  of  how  she  man- 
aged it,  he  found  that  she  had  taken  one  of  his  hands  in 
her  own.  In  his  confusion  he  let  his  hat  fall,  picked  it  up 
hastily,  and  at  last  sat  down  again,  feeling  still  the  warm 
clasp  of  Clara's  hand,  while  with  bewildered  eyes  he  saw 
this  self-possessed,  queenly  young  woman  place  his  bat- 
tered hat  upon  a  table  and  draw  up  a  chair  opposite  to 
him.  He  had  not  said  a  word.  If  he  had  come  with  any 
set  phrases  for  beginning  his  story,  they  were  completely 
driven  from  his  mind. 

Clara  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  he  averted  his 
eyes. 

"Were  you  acquainted  with  Mr.  Strobel?"  she  asked 
presently,  speaking  in  low  tones  that  needed  no  art  to 
color  with  the  sadness  that  weighed  upon  her  heart. 

"No'm,  I  wasn't,"  replied  Billings,  with  a  quick  glance 
at  her. 

"lam  sorry  for  that,'7  said  Clara,  "and  yet  it  shows 
how  kind  you  are  to  come  here  and  toll  me  about  this  mat- 
ter. I  suppose  you  had  to  come  a  long  way.  " 

"I  live  in  the  North  End,"  said  Billings,  uneasily. 
"Bowker  told  me  to  come. " 

"The  North  End  is  a  long  way  off,"  she  declared,  "and 
I  thank  you  just  the  same.  I  suppose  you  may  have  told 
Mr.  Bowker  so  carefully  about  this  that  you  are  tired  of 
the  matter,  but  I  should  like  very  much  to  hear  you  my- 
self. Do  you  mind  telling  me  just  what  you  told  him?" 

"That's  what  I  come  for,  "and  Billings  seemed  to  be 
considerably  relieved.  "I  was  driving  down  Park  Street," 
he  began,  "when  I  saw  that  the  coupe  just  in  front  of  mo 
had  got  into  trouble.  I  went  slow  because  people  got 
around  thick,  and,  besides,  I  wanted  to  see  what  was  thn 
matter.  As  I  was  looking,  the  man  in  the  coupe  clumb 
out  and  asked  me  was  I  engaged.  1  told  him  no,  and  ho 
got  in.  He  seemed  to  be  in  a  hurry." 

"One  moment, "interposed  Clara,  gently.  The  narration 
struck  her  as  distinctly  parrot-like,  and  if  it  were  some- 
thing that  he  had  learned  to  recite,  she  preferred  tc  break 


LIT1ZKI  BREAKS  HIS  APPOINTMENT.  97 

the  thread  of  his  story  before  he  had  come  to  the  impor- 
tant part,  rather  than  give  him  the  advantage  of  estab- 
lishing a  statement  in  smooth  order.  If  he  were  telling  the 
truth,  no  manner  of  interruption  could  prevent  him  from 
eventually  making  himself  understood ;  if  he  were  lying, 
she  must  involve  him  in  contradictions.  So,  without  pre- 
meditation, Clara  said : 

",You  are  going  just  a  little  too  fast  for  me,  and  I  hope 
you  will  forgive  me.  Every  detail,  you  know,  seems  im- 
portant to  me.  Where  had  you  been  that  morning,  Mr. 
Billings?" 

"Been  to  a  funeral,  miss,"  he  answered  promptly. 
"Yes,  so  I  understood;  but  where?" 
"Out  to  Mount  Auburn." 

"That  is  quite  a  long  way  from  Park  Street,  isn't  it?  It 
must  be  four  miles." 

"Yes'm,  'bout  that." 

"It  was  about  eleven  o'clock,  or  a  little  after,  when  Mr. 
Strobel's  coupe  broke  down,  and  you  had  been  to  Mount 
Auburn  and  had  just  got  back.  I  see.  Where  did  you  leave 
your  passengers,  the  persons  you  took  to  the  funeral,  I 
mean?" 

With  a  glance  of  sullen  resentment  Billings  answered  : 

"At  their  house." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Billings,"  and  Clara  smiled  as  if  she  were  not 
in  the  least  annoyed,  "but  that  isn't  telling  where.  I 
didn't  ask  for  the  street  and  number.  Why  should  I?  It 
was  in  Cambridge,  was  it  not?" 

After  the  slightest  perceptible  hesitation,  Billings  an- 
swered : 

"No;  'twas  in  the  West  End." 

"Ah,  then  you  had  come  over  Beacon  Hill  on  your 
way  somewhere.  Where  were  you  going,  Mr.  Billings?" 

As  Billings  hesitated  more  noticeably,  she  continued: 

"Do  you  have  some  regular  place  where  you  wait  for 
passengers,  or  do  you  drive  about  picking  them  up  where 
you  find  them?" 


98  LITIZKI  BREAKS  HIS  APPOINTMENT. 

"1  was  going  to  the  Old  Colony  Depot,"  said  Billings, 
huskily. 

"I  see.  Is  it  customary,  Mr.  Billings,  for  cabmen  to  leave 
the  curtains  of  their  carriages  closely  drawn  after  they 
leave  a  funeral  party?" 

"No,  'tain't,  not  long,  but  you  wouldn't  have  me  stop  in 
front  of  the  house  to  pull  'em  up,  would  you?" 

"Certainly  not.  You  did  quite  right,  doubtless.  When 
did  you  first  see  the  coupe?" 

"At  the  corner  of  Beacon.  It  turned  into  Park  Street 
just  ahead  of  me." 

"Where  did  Mr.  Strobel  tell  you  to  take  him?" 

"To  Dr.  Merrill's  church,  Parker  Avenue,  Roxbury." 

Billings  didn't  know  it,  but  his  examiner  came  very 
near  to  breaking  down  at  this  point.  There  was  nothing 
as  yet  to  show  that  the  driver  was  not  telling  the  truth, 
although  Clara  had  prepared  a  trap  for  him  that  she  in- 
tended to  spring  a  little  later,  and  the  mention  of  the 
church  where  she  was  to  be  married  brought  up  such  a 
flood  of  emotions  that  it  seemed  as  if  she  would  choke. 
Then,  too,  whether  Billings  were  practicing  deceit  or  not, 
it  was  certain  that  for  this  moment  at  least  she  was  fol- 
lowing her  lover's  journey  correctly,  and  she  had  arrived 
at  that  critical  point  where  the  change  in  his  intentions, 
or  in  his  power  to  act,  occurred.  So,  it  was  in  a  very 
faint  voice  that  she  told  Billings  to  go  on.  He  immedi- 
ately resumed  his  parrot-like  narration : 

"He  seemed  to  be  in  a  hurry,  for  he  spoke  quick.  I 
closed  the  door  on  him,  and  got  into  my  seat  as  fast  as  I 
could  and  whipped  up.  1  wanted  to  get  along  myself,  you 
see,  'cause  it  was  quite  a  long  drive,  and  I  had  to  get  back 
to  the  depot." 

This  last  sentence  sounded  like  a  fresh  thought  inter- 
jected on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  for  Billings  spoke  it 
slower  than  the  rest,  and  glanced  inquiringly  at  Clara,  as 
if  to  see  how  she  took  it.  She  noticed  the  difference,  but 
simply  nodded,  and  Billings  went  on. 

"Nothing  happened  till  we  got  to  Elliot  Street.      Then 


LITIZKI  BREAKS  HIS  APPOINTMENT.  99 

the  gentleman  opened  the  door  and  hollered 'Driver!'  I 
pulled  up  a  bit  and  turned  round  to  see  what  he  -wanted. 
'Driver!' says  he,  'I've  changed  my  mind.  Take  me  to 
the  Park  Square  Station.'  'All  right,  sir,'  says  I,  and  he 
closed  the  door  again.  So  I  druv  'im  to  the  station,  and  he 
got  out  and  give  me  a  dollar  and  went  inside,  and  that's 
all  there  is  to  it." 

"I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Billings,"  said 
Clara;  "I  suppose  you  went  directly  to  the  Old  Colony 
Depot  after  that?" 

"Yei'm.  That's  where  I  went." 

He  rose  as  if  there  could  be  nothing  more  for  him  to  say, 
but  Clara  was  not  done  with  him. 

"Just  one  more  question,  "  she  said;  "sit  down  again, 
please.  Did  you  see  Mr.  Strobel  speak  or  bow  to  anybody 
at  the  station?" 

"No'm.  There  wasn't  many  people  about,  and  he  hur- 
ried inside  like  as  if  his  train  was  just  going." 

"Was  there  anybody  there  whom  you   knew?" 

"Yes'm,  and  you  can  ask  him.  A  feller  named  O'Brien, 
who  works  there,  was  just  at  the  door  as  we  drew  up, 
and  he  says  'Hello'  to  me.  He'll  tell  you  he  saw  me  land 
my  passenger  tnere,  for  he  came  forward,  thinking  to 
get  the  gentleman's  bag  to  carry." 

"Mr.  O'Brien  may  have  noticed  where  Mr.  Strobel  went 
after  going  into  the  station, "  mused  Clara. 

"Yes'm,  he  might.     You  might  ask  him." 

"Thank  you;  1  presume  I  shall.  Now,  Mr.  Billings,  I 
want  to  show  you  in  some  way  that  I  appreciate  your 
kindness  in  coming  here  to  tell  me  this.  I  have  had  to 
drive  about  a  great  deal  for  two  days,  and  shall  have  to 
use  a  carriage  to-morrow.  I  shall  be  glad  to  employ  you. " 

Billings  flushed  and  shifted  about  uneasily 

"I  can't,  miss,"  he  muttered. 

"Why  not,  Mr.  Billings?" 

The  driver  stole  a  glance  at  her  earnest  face,  and  saw 
nothing  there  but  sad  surprise. 


100  LITIZKI  BREAKS  HIS  APPOINTMENT. 

"Why  not?"  Clara  gave  the  man  no  help  by  suggesting 
a  possible  excuse. 

"My  carriage  is  engaged— that  is,"  he  blurted,  "I 
haven't  got  any  carriage  that  would  be  fit  for  you." 

"What  is  the  matter  with  the  one  in  which  you  took  Mr. 
Strobel?" 

"It  got  smashed  up  and  is  being  repaired.  You  see,"  and 
he  mumbled  his  words  so  that  they  were  almost  unintel- 
ligible, "the  same  day  a  party  of  toughs  hired  it;  they 
were  kind  o'  swell  toughs,  and  they  got  on  a  racket,  and 
the  carriage  was  damaged.  'Tain't  fit  to  use." 

"Mr.  Billings!"  Clara  spoke  with  a  sudden  energy  that 
startled  the  driver,  "was  Mr.  Strobel  in  the  carriage  when 
it  was  damaged?" 

"No'm,  no'm,  he  wan't,"  stammered  Billings. 

The  explanation  suggested  an  entirely  new  thought  to 
Clara     Before  her  mental  vision  there  came  swiftly  a  pic- 
ture of  her  lover  struggling  with  somebody — might  it  not 
be  Poubalov? — in  the  carriage  itself.     She  seemed  to  see  aJ 
violent  conflict  in  which  seats  and  fixtures  gave  way  as  j 
men's  bodies  fell  heavily.   And  Ivan  was  overpowered,  his 
enemies  triumphed,   he  was    motionless,   unconscious— 
perhaps  fatally  injured,  and  they  had  hidden  him  away 
somewhere  lest  their  crime  come  to  the  light ! 

This  was  wholly  unlike  the  vision  she  had  seen   on  the  j 
evening  of  what  should  have  been   her  wedding  clay ;  it ; 
had  none  of  the  aspects  of  an   hallucination ;  for  as  the 
alarming  details  shaped  themselves  in  her  thoughts,  sho 
was  conscious  that  Billings  sat  before  her,  looking  fright- 
ened, and  that  he  rose  again  to  go.     In   this  instance  she 
was  but  following  the  suggestions  brought  out  by  her  in- 
quiry to  what  might  be  their  logical,  natural  conclusion,   j 

"I  am  sorry  you  cannot  drive  me  to-morrow,"  she  said, 
recovering  and  withdrawing  her  eyes,  which  had  been 
fixed  in  a  strained  stare  upon  Billings  for  a  very  brief  pe- 
riod. "Before  you  go,  tell  me  the  names  and  addresses  of 
the  persons  you  took  to  the  funeral,  please. 


LITIZKI  BREAKS  HIS  APPOINTMENT.  101 

"I  don't  remember,  "replied  Billings,  uneasily.  "I  shall 
have  to  look  up  my  book;  'tain't  here." 

"Will  you  do  so?"  asked  Clara,  pleasantly,  convinced 
now  that  the  man  was  lying;  "and  send  the  names  to  me, 
please.  Will  you  do  that  to-night?" 

"Yes'm,"  replied  Billings  reaching  for  his  hat. 
"And  what  is  your  address?" 

Billings  told  her,  and  she  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his 
arm.  An  idea  that  had  occurred  to  her  vaguely  when  his 
name  was  announced  as  she  stood  before  Poubalov,  now 
recurred  to  her  in  the  shape  of  a  plan.  She  would  have 
Billings  confront  the  Russian,  and  watch  their  faces  nar- 
rowly for  some  sign  of  recognition,  or  alarm. 

"Will  you  come  into  the  next  room  a  moment?"  she  said, 
"I  have  something  to  show  you." 

There  seemed  to  be  a  shade  of  suspicion  in  his  eyes,  but 
he  made  no  objection,  and  Clara  conducted  him  to  the 
drawing-room.  It  was  dark.  With  a  premonition  of  disap- 
pointment, Clara  found  a  match  on  the  mantel  and  lit  the 
gas.  After  a  hasty  glance  around  she  opened  the  door  to 
the  dining-room. 

"Lou!"  she  whispered  eagerly,  "have  you  seen  Mr. 
Poubalov?" 

"No,"  replied  Louise,  coming  forward  and  entering  the 
parlor;  "has  he  gone?  Then  it  must  have  been  he!" 

"Who?  What  have  you  seen?  Wait,  come  into  the  hall. 
Will  you  sit  down  just  a  minute  longer,  Mr,  Billings?  I 
shall  be  but  a  moment." 

Billings  complied,  and  the  young  ladies  passed  quickly 
into  the  hall,  where  the  first  thing  that  Clara  saw  were 
Poubalov's  hat  and  stick  lying  upon  a  table.  She  turned  in 
the  utmost  wonderment  upon  her  cousin. 

"All  I  can  say,  "said  Louise,  "is  that  I  saw  a  man 
leap  over  the  hedge  into  Mr.  Jordan's  grounds  a  short 
time  after  you  went  into  the  drawing-room  to  meet 
Poubalov.  I  couldn't  tell  who  it  was,  couldn't  even  see 
that  he  had  no  hat  on.  I  feared  he  might  be  a  tramp, 


102         LITIZKI  BREAKS  HIS  APPOINTMENT. 

but  thought  then  that  he  had  been  frightened  away,  and 
that  there  was  no  danger." 

"He  was  frightened  away?"  murmured  Clara,  fcclinir 
her  blood  run  cold;  "he  dared  not  face  his  man  Billings!' 

"I  supposed,"  continued  Louise,  in  agitation,"  that  Pou- 
balov  was  with  you.  I  heard  no  voices,  but  thought  per- 
haps that  you  had  gone  into  the  library  with  him,  for  a 
door  closed  once." 

"Yes,  when  Billings  came.  Oh!  if  Litizki  were  only 
here!" 

"Why!  what  could  he  do?" 

"I  would  have  him  follow  Billings.  Oh,  I  could  cry!  it 
is  the  one  opportunity  for  solving  this  mystery  that  wo 
have  found,  and  now  we  are  going  to  lose  it!" 

Louise  was  greatly  distressed. 

"Isn't  there  some  way  that  you  can  detain  Billings, "  she 
suggested,  "until  Litizki  arrives?" 

"No.  He's  been  trying  to  get  away  for  several  minutes. 
It  is  just  possible  that  Litizki  may  be  near.  I'll  go  out 
with  Billings,  as  if  to  call  at  a  neighbor's,  and  if  I  see  Li- 
tizki will  put  him  on  the  track  at  once." 

She  wont  upstairs  for  her  hat,  lingering  over  the  prep- 
aration in  order  to  give  Lilizki  all  possible  opportunity  to 
keep  his  appointment,  and  when  she  came  down  again  Bil- 
lings was  in  the  hall. 

"I  can't  wait  no  longer,"  he  said  gruffly. 

"Very  well,"  replied  Clara;  "I  thank  you  again  for  call- 
ing, 1  am  going  as  far  as  the  next  house,  and  you  can  es 
cort  me." 

Billings  scowled  with  disagreeable  surprise.  At  the  gate 
he  waited  to  see  which  way  she  would  turn. 

"I'm  not  going  that  way,  miss,"  he  said,  and  started  off 
at  a  rapid  pace  in  the  opposite  direction. 


WHAT  BECAME  OF  LITIZKI.  103 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

WHAT   BECAME   OF   LITIZKI. 

Clara  retired  before  her  uncle  returned,  and  when  at 
last  he  appeared,  it  was  only  to  pack  his  bag  and  hurry 
away  to  catch  the  midnight  train  for  New  York. 

"I  may  be  gone  a  week,"  he  told  Louise,  "and  I  may 
get  back  in  two  days.  Telegraph  me  at  the  Travelers'  Ho- 
tel, if  I  am  wanted  for  anything." 

Mr.  Pembroke's  departure  was  a  great  disappointment 
to  Clara.  She  reproached  herself  that  she  had  not  made  an 
opportunity  to  tell  him  about  her  conversation  with  Pou- 
balov  and  Litizki ;  it  was  his  right  to  know  everything 
that  could  possibly  bear  upon  the  case,  and  could  she  have 
told  him,  she  would  have  besought  him  to  advise  her. 

She  was  now  in  a  bewildering  maze  of  doubts  and  uncer- 
tainties. Billings  had  lied  to  her ;  she  was  almost  as  sure 
of  that  as  if  she  had  already  proved  it;  but  at  what  part 
of  his  story  the  falsehood  began  she  could  only  guess. 
There  was  no  doubt  that  Ivan  had  taken  Billings'  carriage. 
Did  he  give  the  driver  orders  to  go  to  the  Park  Square 
Station?  Did  Billings  drive  to  the  station?  The  latter 
question  she  could  answer  with  some  degree  of  satisfac- 
tion by  inquiry  of  the  man  O'Brien,  and  that  seemed  the 
first  thing  to  do;  but  what  then? 

Poubalov  had  called  to  say  something,  and  had  not  only 
gone  away  without  saying  it,  but  had  gone  in  such  wise 
as  to  leave  no  reasonable  doubt  that  he  dared  not  face  the 
driver  of  the  closed  carriage.  Was  it  not  an  inevitable  in- 
ference that  Billings  had  been  hired  by  the  .Russian?  It 
was  with  evident  difficulty  that  Billings  had  stumbled 
through  the  story  as  it  was.  Would  not  Poubalov,  recog- 
nizing the  driver's  mental  inferiority,  have  argued  that  if 


104  WHAT  BECAME  OF  LITIZKL 

they  were  suddenly  brought  face  to  face,  Billings  would 
have  betrayed  their  complicity  by  at  least  a  start? 

And  Litizki,  what  had  become  of  him?  It  was  not  to  bo 
thought  of  that  he  had  abandoned  the  case.  Poubalov  had 
called  at  his  shop  during  the  day,  unquestionably  with 
some  ulterior  design.  Could  anything  be  more  reasonable 
than  to  suppose  that  in  some  way  the  spy  had  frustrated 
the  attempt  of  Litizki  to  help  her? 

The  more  she  pondered  the  various  puzzling  aspects  of 
the  case,  the  more  everything  seemed  to  center  upon  Pou- 
balov, and  she  shuddered  with  apprehension  as  Litizkfs 
characterization  of  him  recurred  to  her.  He  was,  indeed,  a 
terrible  enemy. 

Having  in  mind  only  the  known  facts  in  the  case,  and 
disregarding  utterly  all  inferences  and  conjectures,  she 
tried  to  reason  along  various  lines,  in  the  hope  that  thus 
a  theory  might  be  set  up  which  should  command  sufficient 
respect  to  justify  a  new  departure  in  her  search.  She  be- 
gan with  the  fact  that  Ivan  had  made  every  preparation 
for  marriage— and  there  a  new  thought  presented  itself. 
He  had  surrendered  his  room ;  he  must,  therefore,  have 
packed  his  belongings;  had  they  been  disturbed?  This 
might  be  a  matter  of  infinite  significance,  and  one  that  she 
would  attend  to  without  delay. 

"Louise,"  she  said  (they  were  at  the  breakfast  table  and 
her  cousin  was  lingering  over  her  coffee  while  Clara  was 
absorbed  in  thought),  "will  you  go  downtown  with  me 
again  to-day?" 

"Of  course,  dear,"  replied  Louise;  "I  will  be  ready  in 
ten  minutes." 

Louise  was  relieved  at  Clara's  suggestions.  She  had 
been  hopelessly  wondering  what  Clara  could  find  to  do 
next,  and  she  dreaded  for  her  cousin's  health  should  there 
prove  to  be  no  active  work  upon  which  she  could  concen- 
trate her  faculties.  She  left  the  room  to  prepare  for  the 
day's  jaunt,  and  Clara  resumed  her  thinking. 

Every  preparation  for  marriage,  and  a  start  actually 
made  for  the  church.  Then  an  accident  that  snmebody  had 


WHAT  BECAME  OF  LITIZKI.  105 

prepared.  Who?  There  must  have  been  someobdy  who 
had  a  great  object  to  attain  in  preventing  the  marriage,  or 

in  getting  possession  of  Ivan.  Suppose  it  were  Poubalov, 
what  then?  With  the  insight  he  himself  had  given  her 
into  his  character,  would  he  not  do  everything  possible  to 
throw  her  off  the  right  track?  If  he  had  abducted  Ivan, 
would  he  hesitate  to  abduct  Litizki  if  he  found  that  the  lit- 
tle tailor  was  in  his  way? 

It  was  vain  to  speculate  for  a  reason  for  Poubalov's 
main  action;  that  must  lie  in  his  capacity  as  a  paid  spy 
of  a  government  with  which  Ivan,  apparently,  had  been  at 
one  time  in  conflict.  His  subsequent  actions,  so  far  as 
she  knew  them,  were  all  explainable  on  the  theory  that  he 
had  had  to  do  with  Ivan's  disappearance. 

And  so  her  thoughts  revolved  around  Poublaov,  finding 
at  every  turn  a  trace  of  obliquity  that  was  wholly  in  con- 
sonance with  his  character  and  his  confessed  methods. 

Clara  felt  that  her  reasoning  was  bringing  her  to  no  def- 
inite end,  although  her  brain  teemed  with  courses  of  ac- 
tion that  might  have  been  possible  could  she  have  com- 
manded the  services  of  a  corps  of  shrewd,  faithful  detect- 
ives. It  is  generally  so  with  persons  who  have  a  great 
task  to  accomplish;  they  find  themselves  with  more  plans 
than  resources,  more  brains  than  hands.  Clara  had  just 
come  to  the  sensible  conclusion  that,  compelled  to  work 
substantially  alone,  she  would  undertake  exactly  one 
thing  at  a  time,  and,  having  chosen  a  line  of  inquiry, 
would  follow  it  uninterruptedly  to  the  end,  when  a  serv- 
ant announced  that  a  man  had  called  to  see  her. 

"I  couldn't  catch  his  name,  Miss  Clara,"  said  the  serv- 
ant, "but  I'm  afraid  he's  a  beggar,  he  looks  so  forlorn 
and  seedy." 

Clara  knew  who  it  was  and  she  sprang  from  her  chair 
with  more  eagerness  and  animation  than  she  had  mani- 
fested at  any  time  since  the  disastrous  wedding  day.  She 
fairly  ran  into  the  drawing-room,  both  her  hands  ex- 
tended, her  face  radiant  with  smiles,  and  completely  over- 
whelmed poor  Litizki  with  the  warmth  of  her  greeting. 


206  WHAT  BECAME  OF  L1TIZKI. 

"I  was  so  afraid  something  dreadful  had  happened  to 
you!"  she  exclaimed,  "but  I  knew  that  you  had  not  de- 
serted me." 

"Deserted  you?"  said  Litizki  huskily;  "no,  but  I  was 
afraid  you  would  think  so.  I  didn't  know  what  Poubalov 
might  have  told  you,  and  unless  you  thoroughly  under- 
stand that  man,  that  fiend,  Miss  Hilinan,  he  is  likely  to 
make  you  believe  anything." 

"Then  you  know  that  he  had  been  here!  You  must  have 
recognized  his  hat  in  the  hall." 

"I  saw  it  there  and  his  stick,  too,  but  I  knew  before 
then  that  he  had  been  here.  I  came  to  tell  you." 

Litizki  paused,  the  look  of  grateful  relief  that  had  over- 
spread his  features  at  first  giving  way  to  his  customary 
depressed  expression,  and  he  fell  into  his  habit  of  speak- 
ing with  averted  e3res,  or  with  but  occasional  furtive 
glances  at  the  person  addressed. 

"Do  tell  me,  "said  Clara;  "I  have  been  very  anxious 
about  you." 

Litizki  thought  a  moment,  and  then  asked : 

"May  I  see  Poubalov's  cane?" 

"To  be  sure,"  replied  Clara,  and  she  brought  it  to  him 
from  the  hall. 

Litizki  took  it,  looked  it  over,  felt  along  the  top,  and 
suddenly  drew  forth  the  handle,  from  which  a  gloaming 
blade  depended.  Clara  started  back  with  a  low  exclama- 
tion of  alarm*  Litizki  touched  the  edge  of  the  blade  with 
his  thumb,  as  a  man  tests  a  razor. 

"Alexander  Poubalov, "he  murmured  gloomily,  "held 
this  over  my  heart  once,  not  so  long  ago." 

He  thrust  it  back  into  its  sheath,  where  it  came  to  rest 
with  an  angry  click,  and  handed  the  cane  to  Clara. 

"That  is  the  kind  of  man  he  is,  Miss  Hilman,"  he  said; 
"I  thought  you  might  like  to  know." 

If  he  had  wished  to  impress  Clara  with  the  horribie 
gravity  of  the  situation,  with  its  frightful  possibilities, 
he  succeeded  beyond  measure.  She  held  the  cane,  feeling 
that  it  epitomized  the  spy's  career,  and  a  dreadful  faint- 


WHAT  BECAME  OF  LITIZKI.  107 

ness  depressed  her  which  she  at  length  overcame  with 
the  utmost  difficulty.  Having  returned  the  concealed 
weapon  to  the  hall,  she  sank  into  a  chair  and  asked  Li- 
tizki  to  tell  her  what  had  happened  to  him  during  the  pre, 
vious  evening. 

"You  asked  me  to  call  early, "  he  hegan,  "and  I  set 
out  to  do  so.  Without  going  into  unnecessary  detail,  I  will 
say  that  I  came  up  the  street  that  ends  nearly  in  front  of 
this  house,  a  little  after  seven  o'clock.  The  exact  time 
doesn't  matter,  for  you  will  know  as  nearly  as  you  need 
to  when  I  tell  you  that  just  as  I  was  about  to  cross  the 
road  I  saw  Poubalov  in  front  of  me.  He  had  come  by  an- 
other route.  I  wasn't  surprised,  for  the  man  seems  to 
read  one's  thoughts,  and  it  was  as  if  he  had  known  that  I 
was  coming,  and  had  determined  to  prevent  me. 

"I  doubted  whether  it  would  be  wise  to  call  as  long  as 
he  was  in  the  neighborhood,  but  all  doubts  were  set  at 
rest  when  he  himself  went  up  the  steps  and  rang.  Of 
course  it  would  have  been  the  height  of  folly  for  me  to 
enter  the  house  then." 

"You  had  the  right  to,"  interrupted  Clara;  "I  had 
asked  you  to  come,  and  1  needed  you  very  much." 

Litizki  looked  so  miserable  that  Clara  hastened  to  add: 

"I  didn't  mean  to  reprove  or  find  fault,  Mr.  Litizki.  I 
forgot  for  the  moment  everything  except  that  eventually, 
after  Poubalov  had  run  away,  I  wished  you  were  at 
hand!" 

"I  hope  I  made  no  mistake,  Miss  Hilman,"  said  Litizki; 
"at  all  events  I  could  see  no  other  course  at  the  time  than 
to  do  what  I  did." 

"I  have  no  doubt  you  were  right.  Go  on,  please." 

"T  determined  to  wait  until  Poubalov  went  away.  If  I 
had  been  familiar  with  the  house,  I  might  have  found 
my  way  to  the  back  door  and  sent  word  to  you  by  a  serv- 
ant, but  I  dared  not  venture,  for  I  knew  not  from  what 
window  Poubalov  might  be  looking.  The  same  reason  in- 
duced me  to  leave  the  street,  which  is  clearly  in  view  from 
some  windows,  and,  moreover,  I  did  not  care  to  risk 


108  WHAT  BECAME  OF  LUl/.k  L 

questions  from  anybody  as  to  wny  I  was  loitering  about. 
So  I  slipped  into  the  adjoining  grounds,  whore  there  is  a 
lot  of  shrubbery,  and  crawled  under  a  tree  whose 
branches  hung  low. 

"From  where  I  lay  I  could  see  whether  anybody  rn- 
tered  or  left  the  house  by  the  front  door  and  I  also  B 
all  the  windows  on  one  side.  I  had  been  there  less  than 
a  minute  when  somebody  went  up  the  steps  and  was  ad- 
mitted. I  could  not  see  who  it  was,  for  the  evening  was 
cloudy  and  it  grew  dark  very  quickly." 

"It  was  a  man  named  Billings,"  said  Clara;  "he  drove 
the  closed  carriage  which  took  Mr.  Strobel  from  Park 
Street." 

"Indeed!  I  wish  I  had  known  it.  Well,  events  hap- 
pened pretty  quickly  just  then,  for  it  seemed  to  me  that 
less  than  another  minute  had  passed  when  Poubalov  ap- 
peared at  one  of  the  windows  on  the  side  of  the  hoi 
He  raised  it,  stepped  out,  and  leaped  over  the  ln-d.^o,  not 
five  yards  from  where  I  lay.  Ho  passed  so  close  to  me  that 
I  could  have  reached  out  from  under  the  tree  and  tripprd 
him  up!  I  lay  very-  still,  wondering  what  his  action  could 
mean,  for  as  you  must  know,  he  was  bareheaded.  If  I  had 
dreamed  then  of  going  to  the  house,  I  could  not  have  done 
so,  for  he  crouched  down  by  the  hedge  near  the  street, 
and  I  could  see  that  he  had  his  eyes  on  the  door  and  that 
he  was  waiting.  I  then  determined  to  follow  him  wherever 
he  should  go,  foi  of  course  he  meditated  villainy.  I  may 
have  prevented  him  in  that Oh!  I  don't  know!" 

Litizki  fairly  groaned  these  words,  and  Clara  was  about 
to  utter  an  anxious  inquiry,  when  he  resumed : 

"Don't  let  me  disturb  you,  Miss  Hilman;  I  will  tell  the 
whole  wretched  story.  How  long  we  lay  there  I  don't 
know,  but  you  must,  for  at  last  you,  1  think  it  was  you, 
came  out  of  the  house  and  walked  down  to  the  gate  to 
say  good-night  to  somebody  who  left  you  there — Billings  I 
suppose— and  walked  away  in  a  direction  opposite  to  us. 
You,  was  it  you?  Yes,  you  waited  a  moment,  and  re- 
turned to  the  house,  whereupon  Poubalov  immediately 


WHAT  BECAME  OF  L1T1ZKI.  109 

got  up,  leaped  over  the  hedge,  darted  across  the  road  as 
noiselessly  as  if  he  were  a  cat,  and  disappeared. 

"I  followed  as  well  as  I  could,  and,  as  luck  would  have 
it,  I  soon  overtook  him,  for  he  was  strolling  along  slowly, 
as  unconcerned  as  if  he  owned  a  house  near  by  and  were 
out  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  He  rambled  on  until  he  came 
to  Washington  Street,  when  he  stopped  at  the  curb  and 
looked  idly  about  for  several  seconds.  There  were  many 
people  about,  and  his  bareheaded  condition  attracted  at- 
tention. All  the  shops  were  open,  and  suddenly  he 
darted  into  one  of  them.  It  was  not  a  hat  store,  but  when 
he  came  out,  which  was  almost  immediately,  he  had  a  hat 
on.  I  suppose  he  bought  it  for  an  extravagant  sum  off  the 
head  of  some  stranger  It  would  be  like  him. 

"He  idled  about  the  neighborhood  for  as  much  as  an 
hour,  Miss  Hilman,  and  I  did  all  that  I  could  think  of  to 
keep  him  in  view  without  exposing  myself.  The  man  is  a 
fiend  with  a  million  eyes!  But  wait,  I'll  tell  you.  At  last 
he  moved  along,  and,  of  course,  I  followed  faithfully,  noting 
every  turn,  that  I  might  be  able  to  go  again  by  the  same 
way  if  possible,  or  at  least  to  the  same  place,  wherever 
that  might  be.  For  in  spite  of  my  care  I  don't  know  what 
was  his  destination,  if  he  had  any.  It  is  for  this  reason 
that  I  say  I  may  have  prevented  him  from  some  fresh 
villainy. 

"At  last,  in  a  street  to  which  I  could  readily  return,  he 
paused.  I  was  across  the  way  from  him,  and  I  slipped  into 
a  doorway,  where  I  was  wholly  in  the  dark.  I  could  seo 
him,  though,  and  for  a  long,  long  time  he  paced  slowly 
back  and  forth,  never  once  speaking  to  anybody,  or  look- 
ing about,  or  getting  out  of  my  sight.  It  didn't  matter  to 
me.  I  would  have  stayed  on  till  I  starved  in  my  tracks, 
but  eventually  he  crossed  the  street  directly  toward  me. 
He  could  not  see  me,  of  that  I  am  certain,  but  of  course 
he  had  seen  me — and —  I  am  a  helpless,  good-for-nothing 
fool,  Miss  Hilman!" 

"Why  say  that?"  asked  Clara  kindly. 

"Because  he  camo  straight  into  the  doorway,  put  his 


110  WHAT  BECAME  OF  LITIZKI. 

hand  lightly  on  my  shoulder  and  said  in  that  deep,  scorn- 
ful voice  of  his :  'It  is  enough,  Nicholas  Litizki.  Let  us 
now  go  home,'  and  he  laughed  disagreeably." 

Litizki  stared  aside  with  an  expression  of  utter  self- 
contempt. 

"I  weakly  said  to  myself  tha^  it  was  a  ruse  to  get  rid  of 
me,  and  I  followed  again  as  ho  walked  briskly  away.  He 
took  a  street  car  and  went  straight  to  his  room  in  Bui- 
finch  Place.  It  was  past  midnight,  and  so  I  came  this 
morning,  Miss  Hilman. " 


A  NEW  DEPAUTUEE.  HI 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A     NEW     DEPARTURE. 

"What  a  hard  and  disagreeable  experience, "  exclaimed 
Clara,  "and  so  strange  too!  You  have  no  occasion  to  re- 
proach yourself,  Mr.  Litizki,  with  an}r  neglect.  You  did 
all  that  any  man  could  do,  I  am  sure,  and  it  may  not 
prove  to  be  unfortunate  that  Poubalov  saw  that  you 
were  watching  him." 

"1  wish  I  could  think  so,"  responded  the  tailor,  "and 
it  is  wonderfully  kind  of  you  to  be  so  patient  with  my 
failure.  Isn't  there  something  that  I  can  do  now?  lean  do 
no  work  until  this  matter  is  settled,  and  it  is  torture  to 
remain  idle." 

"I  know  how  true  that  is,"  sighed  Clara;  "yes,  there  is 
something  I  think  you  can  do.  If  Poubalov  had  not  called 
last  evening,  and  so  changed  all  our  plans,  I  should  have 
asked  you  to  follow  Billings  when  he  left  the  house.  I 
have  little  faith  in  him,  Mr.  Litizki,  and  it  seems  to  me 
that  on  leaving  here  last  night  he  must  have  gone  directly 
to  report  to  his  accomplice,  or  employer.  Are  you  sure 
that  Poubalov  spoke  to  nobody?" 

"If  he  did,  it  was  no  more  than  a  passing  word.  He 
seemed  to  know  no  one." 

Clara  had  to  stop  and  think,  for  Litizki's  story  tended 
to  upset  her  theories  concerning  Poubalov 's  exit  and  his 
relations  with  Billings.  Could  it  be  possible,  after  all,  that 
Billings  had  not  been  employed  by  the  spy,  and  that  the 
latter,  therefore,  had  had  nothing  to  do  with  Ivan's  disap- 
pearance? Perhaps  Poubalov  worked  through  still  an- 
other accomplice,  and,  suspecting  possible  treachery,  had 
been  at  the  pains  of  secretly  following  Billings,  to  learn 
whether  he  and  the  unknown  other  were  faithful. 


A  NEW  DEPARTURE. 

This  seemed  rather  a  wild  supposition,  for  it  would  not 
be  like  Poubalov  to  admit  others   into   his 
tions. 

Had  he  followed  Billings?    There  was  no  in 

Clara's  mind  that  this  was  what  he  started  T  in-n   ho 

leaped  over  the  hedge  and  ran  to  the  side  of  the  road 
posite  to  where  Billings  was  walking.     Had  Poubalov 
Billings  in  the  darnkess,  and,  observing  Liti/ki's  i 
purposely  dodged  hither  and  thither,    to  «. 
tailor? 

From  every  question  Clara  turned  more  ; 
before.    It  must  be  that  she  was  on  the  wrong  track,  else 
a  reasonable  answer  could  be  found,  a  reasonable  ex  pi; 
tion  suggested  for  every  act.     Perhaps  she  was  wr«  TU'   in 
obstinately  connecting  Poubalov  with  the  first  act   in 
tragedy,  the  disappearance  of  Ivan ;  but  if  so,   could   Ins 
conduct  even  then  bo  explained? 

"Mr.  Liti/ki, "  said  Clara,  at  length,  "I  wnnt  to  know 
all  that  can  possibly  be  learned  about  this  man  Billings. 
He  gave  me  his  address.  Will  you  undertake  to  look  him 
up?  Unless  ho  is  very  closely  in  league  with  Poubul<>\ .  he 
will  not  know  who  you  are,  and  for  that  matter  it  proba- 
bly won't  be  necessary  for  you  to  meet  him.  Eventually 
you  might  have  to  follow  him  somewhere,  but  at  the  start 
you  miu'ht  learn  a  great  deal  from  his  neighbors.** 

"I'll  do  it,  Miss  Hilman;  but  I  promise  yon  no 
every  step  I  take  will  be  dogged  by  Poubul- 

"Well,  never  mind.     You  will  be  on  you  guard  agai 
him— and  yet,  I  do  not  want  you  to  expose  y  r   to 

danger,"  and  Clara  shuddored  as  she  thought  of  tho  long 
dagger  concealed  in  Poubalov's  cane. 

"Bah!"  returned  Liti/ki,  "I  care  nothing  for  the  <! 
ger.     My  only  fear  is  that  the  villain  will  overran 
in  anything  I  may  attempt.  I  am  no  match  for  him  in  skill 
and  cunning,  Miss  Hilman." 

Litizki  was  woefully  dejected.     Never  did  man   so  long 
to  be  possessed  of  genius,  or  even  talent,  and  the  ta 
was  painfully  aware  of  his  own  deficiencies. 


A  NEW  DEPARTURE.  113 

"You  underestimate  yourself,"  said  Clara;  "you  see 
that  I  Lave  confidence  in  you,  else  I  would  not  ask  you  to 
undertake  the  investigation.  Will  you  begin  at  once?" 

"Gladly.  You  cannot  imagine  how  much  courage  your 
good  words  give  me.  If  I  dared  to  cherish  a  hope  of  any 
kind,  it  would  be  that  I  should  accomplish  something 
that  would  justify  your  good  opinion." 

"You  have  already  done  so,  and  will  do  more,  have  no 
doubt  of  it!  I  am  going  downtown  myself.  Suppose  you  go 
to  the  address  Billings  gave  me,  make  such  inquiries 
there  as  seem  advisable,  and,  if  you  see  nothing  to  com- 
mand your  immediate  attention,  come  and  tell  me  what 
you  have  found.  I  shall  be  at  Mrs.  White's.  If  you  come 
after  I  go,  you  will  find  some  word  from  me  as  to  where 
to  go  next." 

She  gave  him  Billings'  address,  saw  him  to  the  door 
with  a  cheering  smile,  and  then  turned  to  Louise,  who 
had  been  ready  to  start  for  several  minutes. 

"He  had  what  was  to  him  a  dismal  story  to  tell,"  said 
Clara,  "and  I  knew  he  would  rather  tell  it  to  me  alone." 

"I  supposed  so,"  returned  Louise,  "and  so  I  took  pains 
not  to  interrupt  you.  I  wish  I  could  think  a  quarter  as 
well  as  you  do,  dear.  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  were  the  least 
use." 

"Don't  be  silly,  Lou, "  and  Clara  embraced  her  cousin 
affectionately ;  "if  I  could  think  as  well  as  you  imagine  I 
do,  we  should  be  out  of  the  difficulty  in  a  day.  What  do 
3rou  suppose  I  should  do  without  you?" 

Louise  was  profoundly  convinced  that  Clara  would  do 
exactly  as  she  had  been  doing  all  along,  but  she  didn't  say 
so.  She  would  have  sympathized  acutely  with  Litizki's 
self-abasement  had  she  known  how  earnestly  he  had 
striven  to  be  of  use,  and  how  utterly  he  had  seemed  to 
fail. 

They  went  first  to  the  Park  Square  Station,  Clara,  as 
usual,  deeply  absorbed  in  studying  the  strange  problems 
that  confronted  her.  The  impression  she  had  received 
this  morning  that  Poubalov  might  not  have  been  associated 


H4  A  N  W  DEPARTURE. 

directly  with  Ivan's  taking  off,  grew  upon  her.  How  read- 
ily  he  had  abandoned  the  suggestion  of  elopement!  Aban- 
don? he  had  ignored  it  utterly.  Not  once  in  her  conve 
tion  with  him  had  he  put  that  forth  as  an  explanation 
worthy  of  investigation.  Could  it  have  been  his  subtle 
purpose  to  interest  her  in  a  line  of  inquiry  that  should 
lead  directly  away  from  that?  A  shiver  passed  over  her 
frame,  and  Louise  inquired  anxiously  what  was  the  mat- 
ter? 

"New  theories  keep  occurring  to  me,"  responded  Clara 
gravely,  "and  each  one  is  a  shock  worse  than  the  one  that 
preceded  it.  Let  me  tell  you  this  one.  Suppose  that  Li//.io 
White,"  Clara  spoke  with  difficulty,  every  word  seemingly 
dragged  forth  by  a  violent  effort,  "suppose  she  wi-n-  in 
some  way  Poubalov's  agent;  I  will  not,  cannot  think  that 
Ivan  went  away  with  her,  but  might  it  not  be  possible 
that  this  remarkable  man,  who  has  such  mastery  over  or- 
dinary minds,  had  made  her  an  accomplice?  Don't 
see  the  cleverness  of  the  plan?  If  Ivan  was  forced  to  go  to 
New  York,  Lizzie's  departure  for  that  city  the  same  day 
is  immediately  assumed  by  everybody  to  mean  that  they 
eloped,  and  probably  all  in  Boston  who  think  of  the  mat- 
ter at  all,  suppose  that  they  have  been  married.  Ivan  may 
be  a  prisoner  in  New  York,  and  Lizzie  may  be  under  P<  >u- 
balov's  pay,  or  influence,  the  latter  more  likely,  to 
not  as  his  jailer,  but  as  a  mask  for  his  presence  there. 

"Poub<\lov  has  some  object  to  attain   in   keeping   him 
thus  guarded,  to  torture  some  political  s  from   him, 

perhaps.  Now  what  better  could  he  do  than  divert  suspi- 
cion in  my  mind  from  Lizzie  to  those  whom  he  rails  Nihil- 
ists, or  even  upon  himself?  He  saw  at  first  glance  that  I 
would  not  tolerate  the  thought  of  an  elopement  as  among 
the  possibilities,  so  he  had  need  to  disarm  me  of  suspicion 
in  that  direction.  Has  not  everything  he  has  done  1 
done  with  a  view  to  keeping  me  in  Boston?  What  does  lie 
care  how  much  poor  Litizki  dogs  his  steps,  so  long  as  the 
victim  of  his  intrigue  and  villainy  is  hundreds  of  miles 
away?  His  one  fear  in  Boston  is  that  Billings,  whom  he 


A  NEW  DEPARTURE.  115 

hired  to  help  in  the  abduction,  may  confess  *»jmething. 
Therefore  he  tried  to  dog  Billings'  steps  last  night,  and 
whether  he  succeeded  I  do  not  know." 

Much  of  this  was  Greek  to  Louise,  and  she  said  so,  add- 
ing: "What  I  do  understand  is  that  you  feel  now  as  if  it 
would  he  necessary  to  go  to  New  York." 

" I  think  so.     We  will  see." 

1  'Clara,"  said  Louise,  "you  will  not  think  that  1  have 
suspected  Ivan  of  faithlessness,  I  am  sure;  but  it  has 
seemed  to  me  that  unless  he  returned  soon,  you  would 
have  to  go  to  Lizzie  White.  You  cannot  leave  any  possible 
explanation  unsought.  I  could  not  conjecture  that  she 
and  Poubalov  might  be  concerned  together  as  you  have, 
but  I  did  feel  as  if  you  ought  to  look  her  up." 

"I  am  glad  you  think  so,"  responded  Clara,  "for  I  was 
afraid  you  would  oppose  my  going." 

At  the  station  Clara  readily  found  the  Mr.  O'Brien  to 
whom  Billings  had  referred  for  corroboration  of  a  part 
of  his  story. 

"Yes'm,"  he  said  in  reply  to  her  questions,  "I  know  the 
Billings  you  speak  of.  I  saw  him  here  last  Monday. 
Has  he  been  up  to  anything  crooked?" 

"I  don't  know,  said  Clara;  "it  may  help  to  settle  that  if 
you  will  tell  me  what  were  the  circumstances  of  his  call 
here." 

O'Brien  hesitated. 

"I  don't  want  to  get  tangled  up  in  any  police  business, " 
he  declared;  "Billings  was  said  to  be  the  man  who  drove 
the  gent  that  skipped  on  his  wedding  day  early  this 
week." 

"Yes,"  said  Clara;  "lam  Miss  Hilman,  and  1  was  to 
be  married  to  the  gentleman." 

"Sho!"  exclaimed  O'Brien,  sympathetically,  "that 
must  have  been  a  pretty  tough  blow, "  and  he  scratched 
his  head  thoughtfully. 

"My  inquiry,"  continued  Clara,  "has  nothing  to  do  with 
the  police.  They  have  abandoned  the  investigation,  I  be- 


116  A  NEW  DEPARTURE. 

lieve.  I  am  trying  simply  to  satisfy  myself,  and  surely 
you  won't  refuse  to  help." 

"No,  I  won't,"  replied  O'Brien;  "but  what  I  can  say 
won't  do  you  no  good.  This  was  how  it  was.  I  had  to  go 
out  to  the  front  of  the  depot  for  something,  and  just  as 
I  got  there,  Billings  drove  up  a  closed  carriage.  I  thought 
he  nodded  as  if  he  wanted  me,  so  1  stepped  forward.  He 
pulled  up  further  on  than  where  carriages  generally  stop, 
and  was  in  a  place  all  by  himself.  I  was  the  only  one  near. 
'Hello,'  says  I,  'how  long  you  been  driving?'  'Mind  your 
own  business, '  says  he,  and  he  whipped  up  and  drove  oft'. 
While  I  was  speaking  to  him  a  man  had  got  out  of  the 
carriage  and  gone  into  the  depot.  I  didn't  see  him  to  know 
him,  didn't  pay  any  attention  to  him,  for  he  went 
quickly,  and  I  was  wondering  about  Billings." 

"He  says  you  came  forward  to  get  his  passenger's  bag- 
gage." 

"  'Tain't  so.  That  ain't  my  line  of  work." 
"Didn't  the  passenger  pay  his  fare?" 
"Not  there.    He  went  straight  into  the  depot." 
"Why  did  you  ask  Billings  that  question?" 
"  'Cause  I  didn't  know  he'd  got  into  the  cab  business. 
He  used  to  be  a  porter." 

Clara  thanked  O'Brien,  said  she  might  call  again  if  any 
other  questions  occurred  to  her,  and  the  young  ladies  wont 
on  to  Ashburton  Place.  Billings  had  lied,  but  it  might 
have  been  Ivan,  nevertheless,  who  went  into  the  station 
from  the  closed  carriage. 

Mrs.  White's  greeting  was  marked  by  constraint,  and 
she  sat  in  distressed  silence  for  a  moment  after  Clara  and 
Louise  entered.  At  length  she  said : 

"People  will  talk  so!    I'm  sure  you've  been  very  good 
and  brave,  Miss  Hilman,  but  what  is  one  to  think?" 
"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Mrs.  White." 
"Well,  don't  you  see,  lots  of  my  friends  have  called,  see- 
ing Lizzie's  name  in   the  papers,  and  Mr.  Strobel's,  and 
they  will  have  it  that  they  eloped." 


A  NEW  DEPARTURE.  117 

"Do  you  think  so?"  asked  Clara,  and  in  spite  of  her 
effort  her  tone  was  cold. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  think, "  replied  the  landlady, 
plaintively. 

"You  may  think  what  you  please,"  said  Clara,  her  pride 
mastering  her  diplomacy  for  the  moment;  "I  am  going  to 
New  York  to  see  your  daughter.  I  called  to  say  that  you 
might  write  to  her  freely  so  far  as  any  wish  of  mine  is 
concerned,  and  to  ask  if  I  could  take  a  look  at  Mr.  Stro- 
bel's  room." 

"Certainly,"  answered  Mrs.  White,  uncomfortably.  She 
longed  to  ask  the  imperious  young  lady  a  host  of  ques- 
tions, but  she  was  restrained  by  Clara's  hauteur. 

The  young  ladies  went  up  to  Ivan's  room,  and  found 
there  his  trunk  as  he  had  left  it,  apparently,  and  every- 
thing  in  just  such  condition  as  would  be  expected  if  a  man 
were  about  to  move  and  were  going  to  send  for  his  effects 
later. 

When  they  went  down  again  they  found  Litizki  talking 
with  Mrs.  White. 

"So  you  are  going  to  New  York  to-day?"  he  said  with 
some- appearance  of  disappointment. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Clara,  "but  I  don't  care  to  have  that  in- 
formation go  further.  Will  you  be  careful,  Mrs.  White?" 
Forgive  me  if  I  seemed  harsh  just  now.  I  shall  say  nothing 
unkind  to  your  daughter,  and  I  believe  less  than  ever  that 
she  eloped  with  Mr.  Strobel.  What  have  you  found?" 
she  asked,  turning  to  Litizki. 

"Billings  doesn't  live  at  that  address,"  he  replied, 
"although  he  used  to.  He  hasn't  been  about  there  for 
some  time,  and  no  one  in  the  neighborhood  knew  he  was  a 
cab-driver." 

"  Very  well, "  said  Clara.  "There  is  nothing  more  to  do 
in  that  direction  for  the  present.  I  shall  return  from  New 
York  on  Saturday  morning,  probably.  I  should  like  to  see 
you  then,  if  possible." 

"Yes,  Miss  Hilman.  WThat  train  are  you  to  take?  I  might 
have  something  to  report  to  you  at  the  last  minute." 


118  A  SK\Y  IfM'AL 

Clara  reflet  ted  and  answered : 

4 'I  shall  have  to  p>  homo  lirst.  I  don't  see  how  I  can  go 
earlier  than  by  tl.  o  o'clock  New  England  train, 

you  be  there?" 

Liti/ki  said  he  would,  and  after  some  further  conversa- 
tion with  Mrs.  White  the  young  ladies  returned  to  Rox- 
bury.  Louise  did  not  prepare  to  go  to  New  York,  the  extra 
expense  this  journey  involved  deterring  her,  for  Mr.  Pern- 
broke  was  not  one  who  reveled  in  great  wealth  It  was  le- 
cided  to  apprise  him  of  Clara's  coming  by  telegraph,  so 
that  she  would  not  be  without  escort  in  the  city. 

Litizki  was  at  the  train  as  he  promised  to  be,  and  as- 
sisted Clara  to  her  seat  in  the  drawing-room  oar.  He  lin- 
gered until  the  starting  signal  had  been  given  and  then 
s;iid  "good-by"  and  jumped  off;  but  instead  of  ran 
in  the  depot,  he  ran  forward  and  boarded  the  ordinary 
smoking-car. 


LOUISE  RECEIVES  A  CALLER.  110 


CHAPTER  XV. 

LOUISE    RECEIVES    A    CALLER. 

Mr.  Pembroke  met  Clara  at  the  train  when  it  arrived  in 
the  Grand  Central  Depot  promptly  at  nine  o'clock.  He  was 
plainly  anxious,  almost  agitated. 

4 'Tell  me,  child,"  he  exclaimed,  "why  you  have  come?" 

"I  couldn't  be  satisfied,"  she  replied,  "without  setting  at 
rest  the  rumors  that  connect  Ivan's  name  with  Lizzie 
White.11 

"Oh,"  said  her  uncle,  apparently  relieved,  "is  that  all?" 

"All,  uncle?  Why,  no,  not  if  I  find  anything  that  leads 
me  to  believe  that  Ivan  is  in  New  York.  In  that  case  I 
shall  search  for  him  here.  What  did  you  think  I  had  come 
for?" 

"I  had  nothing  in  mind  except  anxiety.  When  I  re- 
ceived your  telegram,  I  feared  something  had  happened.  I 
couldn't  tell  what.  I  have  been  so  occupied  with  business 
matters  recently  that  I  haven't  been  able  to  keep  up  with 
you,  you  know.1* 

"I'm  so  sorry  to  give  you  more  trouble  and  anxiety," 
said  Clara,  with  the  sincerest  contrition,  "but  I  felt  as  if 
I  must  come  on." 

"Let  us  go  straight  to  the  hotel, "  said  Mr.  Pembroke; 
"I  suppose  there's  nothing  you  want  to  do  to-night?" 

They  had  been  standing  on  a  station  platform  as  they 
talked,  and  not  far  away  was  Litizki,  watching,  trying  to 
listen,  and  wondering  who  the  gentleman  could  be  whom 
Clara  greeted  so  affectionately.  He  knew  nothing  about 
her  relationships,  and  supposed  that  Mr.  Pembroke  was 
her  father.  He  followed  them  and  saw  them  enter  a  hack, 
and  he  managed  to  get  near  enough  to  overhear  Mr.  Pem- 
broke say  "Travelers'  Hotel"  to  the  driver.  Not  content 


120  LOT  IS/:  HECEI] 

With  knowing  the    hot.-l,  h-  .   Lili/ki    ran    along    tho 

sidewalk,  keeping  tlio  vehicle  in  view  all 
did  riot  turn  aside  content  until  lie  saw  by  the   d«-pai 
of  the  hack  empty   that  Clara  and  her  es«  -re  bot 

the  hotel.  Then  ho  Mt  that  site  would  be  safe  through 
niu'ht,  for  he  was  possessed  of  the  iat   the  powerful 

Poubalov  would  follow  hor,  and  ho  feared  that  she  would 
come  to  harm  nt  his  hands. 

Mr.  Pembroke  had  said  little  on  th<-  way  from  the  depot 
to  the  hotel,  but  when  they  were  in  the  quiet  of  Cla 
room,  he  remarked : 

"I  suppose,  my  dear,  that  this  coming  to  see  I/. 
Wliite  is  the  last  step  you  will  take  in  this  matter,  i 
it?" 

"I  cannot  tell  yet,  uncle, "  she  replied;  "I    do  not  see 
why  it  should  be,  but,  of  course,  I  know  so  many  tl, 
«  unectod  with  the  case  that  I  have  had  no  opp 
tell  you — things  that  I  want  to  t- 11.     I  have  needed  s<> 
body's  advice,  so  much,  and  I  could  not  intrude  on 
when  you  are  eo  busy.    I  would  not  even  now  hut    tl. 
think  you  ought  to  know  as  much  as  I  do  of  what  has  1 
pened." 

An  expression  of  pain  crossed  Mr.  Pembroke's  features, 
and  he  responded  uneasily : 

"Of  course  I  want  to  help  you,  Clara,  and  I  ana  more  re- 
gretful than  I  can  possibly  express  that  my  business  has 
boon  in  such  shape." 

"Are  you  seriously  alarmed  about  it,  uncle?" 

"I  was,  but  I  think  we  shall  pull  through  all  right  n 
Let  us  talk  of  your  affairs.     I  would  like  to  suggest,  with 
all  sympathy,  Clara,  that  the  world  in  general,  while  it 
would  admire  your  loyalty  if  it  understood  it,  would  yet 
do  so  in  a  pitying  way  that  would  be  eminent!  iste- 

ful  to  you  if  on  your  own  part  you  understood  the  world. 
You  seo,  you  are  regarded,  no  matter  how  unjustly,  as 
deserted.  You  have  a  remarkably  clear  head,  and  you 
must  see  what  I  mean  without  putting  me  to  the  neces- 
sity of  using  disagreeable  terms." 


LOUISE  RECEIVES  A  CALLER.  121 

Clara  flushed.  She  felt  at  that  moment  the  full  force  of 
the  calamity  that  had  overtaken  her.  While  she  was  ac- 
tively at  work  building  up  theories,  investigating  clews, 
and  examining  those  who  might  throw  light  on  the  matter, 
her  grief  had  been  measurably  lightened.  The  thought 
that  she  was  working,  however  doubtfuly,  toward  an  end, 
had  enabled  her  to  keep  her  emotions  in  control.  Her  un- 
cle's words,  which  were  evidently  but  the  preface  to  an 
appeal  to  give  up  the  struggle,  reopened  her  wounds.  It 
was  as  if  he  had  torn  away  the  foundations  of  that  struc- 
ture of  the  mind  by  which  she  had  supported  her  heart. 
With  difficulty  she  restrained  her  tears,  and  responded: 
.  "It  would  he  better,  uncle,  to  use  plain  language.  Then 
there  would  be  no  possible  chance  of  a  misunderstanding. 
I  know  how  I  am  looked  upon,  as  deserted  by  my  lover, 
perhaps  not  for  another  woman,  but  at  all  events  deserted 
by  him.  The  world  will  say  that  it  would  comport  better 
with  womanly  dignity  to  suffer  in  silence  and  solitude, 
and  that  it  is  unmaideuly  to  pursue  the  man." 

"You  use  harsher  language  than  I  would  have  used  had 
I  spoken  without  consideration  of  your  feelings, "  inter- 
posed her  uncle,  nervously.  His  niece's  faculty  for  mani- 
festing occasionally  an  imperious  will,  and  of  firmly  main- 
taining her  own  way  without  regard  to  general  opinion, 
had  always  been  a  bit  of  a  terror  to  him.  It  was  difficult 
for  him  to  reconcile  it  with  her  affectionate  disposition, 
her  real  consideration  for  the  sufferings  of  others.  He 
could  not  see  that  in  this  matter,  without  the  faintest 
trace  of  egotism,  she  unconsciously  measured  her  own 
suffering  as  infinitely  greater  than  that  of  anybody  else 
who  was  related  to  the  case,  and  that  she  as  uncon- 
sciously asserted  her.  right  to  minister  to  that  suffering 
in  the  way  best  calculated  to  alleviate  it.  Such  characters 
as  hers,' under  the  pressure  of  great  trouble,  elevate  self- 
interest  to  the  very  heights  of  nobility. 

"I  ask  no  consideration  for  my  feelings,"  said  Clara,  al- 
most coldly ;  "it  seems  to  me  that  real  consideration  would 
credit  me  not  only  with  dignified  motives  but  with  an  in- 


122  LOUISE  RECEIVES  A  CAL LER. 

telligent  basis  for  my  conduct.    Uncle  dear,"  and  she  sud- 
denly crossed  to  him  and  put  her  arms  about  his  n> 
"let  me  take  that  back.     I  didn't  mean  it.     I  wouldn1' 
the  world  say  an  unkind  word  to  you,  but  you  see  I  feel 
my  lonely  position  so  keenly.     I  do  what  I  think  is  right, 

but  there  is  no  one  to  uphold  me." 

Mr.  Pembroke  disengaged  her  arms,  and  again  the  ex- 
pression of  pain  flitted  across  his  face. 

"I  am  doing  as  well  as  I  can  under  the  <-r 
he  said  huskily,  "not  only  to  show  you   ray  deep  sympa- 
thy, but  to  guide  you  also.  For  your  own  interests,  1  must 
point  out  one  Hit}'  of  your  interview  to-morrow, 

shall  plaeo  LO  obstacle  in  the  way  of  your  seeing   Li//ie 
White,  but  I   caution  you,  without   knowing    more   a 
her  than  that  she  left  a  good  home,  that  she  may  tak-  a 
most  unfriendly  attitude.  If  there  is  anything  unseemly  in 
the  mef'tintr.  I  know  that  it  will  arise  from   her.     No  ono 
can  tell  me  that  she  lacks  your  native  refinement ;  it  must 
be  so;  a  woman  such  as  she  is  at  heart  may  make  a  di  • 
fnl  soono,  whether  she  be  interested  in  Ivan  or  not.   To  be 
concerned  in  such  a  scene,  my  dear  child,  would  be  a 

-ma  from  which  even  your  goodness  could   not  osc 
Clara,  there  is  nothing  so  scandalous  as  a  quarrel  between 
women  when  a  man  is  in  question." 

44 You  wish  me  not  to  see  her,"  said  Clara,  faintly. 

Mr.  Pembroke  rose  and  paced  up  and  down  in  extreme 
agitation  for  several  minutes,  while  Clara  sat  with  a 
dreadful  weight  upon  her  heart;  for  she  not  only  1< 
her  uncle,  and  wished  earnestly  to  be  guided  by  him  if 
possible,  but  she  also  realized  that  his  warn 
one.  She  had  herself,  with  all  hrr  thought,  scarMy  con- 
sidered how  she  should  approach  Lizzie  White.  So  certain 
was  she  that  Ivan  had  not  eloped  with  her,  that  the  inter- 
view itself  had  not  appealed  to  her  as  more  than  a  frii-ndly 
discussion  of  facts  and  rumors  as  to  which  both  would  be 
in  accord.  But  there  was  her  theory  that  Lizzie  might  he 
an  accomplice  of  Poubalov's.  What  attitude  might  she  not 


LOUISE  RECEIVES  A  CALLER.  123 

take,  therefore,  in  order  to  carry  out  her  part  in  the  spy's 
design? 

"I  would  say  yes, "  declared  Mr.  Pembroke  at  length, 
"for  that  is  my  wish,  hut  I  do  not,  cannot  say  it.  Go  to 
this  Lizzie  White  to-morrow,  Clara.  You  will  know  how 
to  speak  with  her  better  than  I  can  tell  you.  I  will  myself 
go  to  the  house  with  you,  but  you  shall  have  your  meet- 
ing all  alone  if  you  so  desire.  Of  course  you  do." 

"Then,  uncle,"  said  Clara,  "let  me  tell  you  of  the 
strange  things  that  have  occurred  since  I  began  to  search 
for  Ivan.  I  am  sure  you  will  feel,  when  you  know  all,  that 
I  am  justified  in  my  general  course,  however  much  I  may 
have  been  mistaken  in  details." 

Mr.  Pembroke  listened  with  the  closest  attention  to  the 
narrative.  He  was  deeply  moved  by  it,  and  when  she  had 
finished  he  said  brokenly : 

"There  is  great  villainy  at  work  here." 

Then  he  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand,  shielding  his 
eyes  from  hers  as  she  eagerly  sought,  not  so  much  com- 
mendation of  her  persistence  as  suggestion  as  to  what  to 
do,  or  some  theory  upon  which  to  explain  the  many  mys- 
teries that  centered  upon  the  disappearance  of  Ivan. 

"I  wonder,"  he  mused  at  last,  "if  this  could  have  been 
accident?" 

"Accident,  uncle!"  exclaimed  Clara,  with  just  a  touch 
of  impatience;  "don't  you  see  that  if  it  had  been  accident, 
we  should  have  known  of  it?  Think:  in  a  busy  street  of  a 
city  no  accident  could  have  occurred  by  which  Ivan  could 
be  incapacitated  without  some  report  of  it  coming  to  the 
authorities.  Even  if  Ivan  had  not  been  taken  to  a  hospital 
in  the  usual  way,  but  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  private 
persons,  it  is  not  possible  that  with  all  the  stir  that  was 
made  by  his  disappearance,  police  or  reporters  should  not 
have  found  some  trace  of  him." 

"True,  true, "said  Mr.  Pembroke,  vacantly ;  "I  was 
thinking — you  see  it  is  hard  to  master  all  these  strange 
details  at  once.  I  marvel  at  your  courage." 

"Courage!   What  else  could  I  do?"  asked  Clara. 


121  LOUISE  RECEIVES  A  CALLER. 

"Nothing  with  your  character,  nothing  else.  You  have 
(1  .-mo  right,  Clara.  I  am  very  tired.  Let  us  talk  further  of 
this  in  the  morning." 

Mr.  Pembroke  was  not  disposed  to  talk  in  the  morning, 
however,  and  Clara  was  engrossed  with  a  long  letter  from 
Louise  that  had  been  mailed  on  the  train  leaving  Boston 
at  midnight. 

"Poubalov,"  she  wrote,  "was  at  the  house  when  1  re- 
turned from  seeing  you  off.  If  the  man  were  capable  of  ex- 
pressing emotion,  I  should  say  that  he  was  disappointed 
at  not  seeing  you;  but  whatever  he  felt,  he  masked  it  un- 
d«T  his  grand  assumption  of  dignity  and  courtesy.  He  had 
called,  he  said,  to  make  his  apologies  for  his  extraordinary 
leave-taking  of  the  evening  before,  and  also,  he  added 
with  ponderous  humor,  to  recover  his  property.  I  got  his 
hat  and  cane  for  him,  and  what  do  you  think!  he  had 
brought  a  lovely  basket  of  flowers  for  yon,  to  plead  his 
apologies,  as  he  put  it.  There  was  no  refusing  such  an  of- 
fering, dear,  and  I  am  enjoying  their  fragrance  and  rich 
colors  as  I  write.  I  hope  this  will  reach  you  in  time  to  be 
of  use  if  Poubalov's  call  can  be  of  use  to  you  in  Now  York. 
I  thought  it  my  duty  to  report  it.  I  felt  how  immeasura- 
bly superior  you  are  to  me  intellectually — I  won't  draw 
other  comparisons  lest  they  be  odious  to  one  of  us — for  I 
was  utterly  at  a  loss  to  draw  him  out.  He  didn't  present 
his  excuses  to  me,  and  how  ho  managed  to  evade  doing  so  I 
can't  quite  see  now  as  I  think  it  over,  for  he  remained 
several  minutes,  talking  with  apparent  candor.  The  man 
himself  is  as  great  a  mystery  as  anything  connected  with 
your  trouble.  All  I  can  say  is  that  with  one  hat  on  his 
head, and  his  other  hat  and  his  cane  in  his  hand,  he  eventu- 
ally took  his  departure,  promising  to  call  again.  There  is 
one  thing  I  managed  not  to  do,  though  it  was  quite  plain, 
even  to  me,  that  he  was  trying  to  find  out.  I  didn  't  tell  him 
where  yon  were  Of  course  I  had  to  say  that  you  were  not 
at  home,  and  in  answer  to  direct  questions  that  I  did  not 
expect  you  before  Saturday,  but  I  didn't  even  hint  at  New 
York  or  Lizzie  White,  and  he  made  no  allusion  to  either. 


LOUISE  RECEIVES  A  CALLEE.  125 

Did  I  do  right?  I  hope  so,  for  I  have  felt  so  often  what  a 
shame  it  is  that  I  cannot  be  of  more  help  to  you.  I  be- 
lieve in  Ivan  as  you  do,  dear,  and  my  heart  and  thoughts 
with  are  you." 

They  were  at  breakfast  in  the  great  dining  room  of  the 
hotel  when  Clara  read  this  letter,  and  she  furtively  kissed 
the  paper  that  conveyed  such  loyal  sympathy  to  her.  As 
she  replaced  the  letter  in  the  envelope,  she  was  surprised 
to  see  the  old  man  Dexter  hobbling  across  the  room. 
There  was  an  ugly  scowl  upon  his  face  as  he  bowed  to 
her,  and  Mr.  Pembroka  rose  from  his  chair  with  an  ex- 
pression little  less  than  fierce. 

"Another  lime,  Dexter,"  he  exclaimed  under  his  breath, 
taking  the  old  man  by  the  arm  and  wheeling  him  around. 
As  Mr.  Pembroke  walked  him  away,  Clara  heard  Dexter 
croak : 

"What  is  she  here  for,  Mat  Pembroke?" 

When  her  uncle  returned,  his  face  was  still  dark  and  he 
said  : 

"Business  necessities,  Clara,  that  sometimes  compel  a 
man  to  tolerate  disagreeable  persons.  I  wouldn't  have  him 
near  you,  however." 

"He  is  disagreeable,  surely, "  responded  Clara,  "but  I 
could  have  borne  with  him  for  your  sake,  uncle." 

The  subject  seemed  intensely  disagreeable  to  Mr.  Pem- 
broke, and  nothing  further  was  said  about  it. 

After  breakfast  Mr.  Pembroke  inquired  the  number  of 
the  house  on  Second  Avenue  from  which  Lizzie  White  had 
written,  and  they  set  out  to  find  it. 

"I  shall  have  to  leave  you,  Clara,"  said  her  uncle,  "as 
soon  as  I  am  suie  you  have  found  the  right  place.  I  will 
call  for  yon  or  I  will  put  a  carriage  at  your  disposal." 

"There  is  no  telling  how  long  1  shall  be,"  returned 
Clara,  "and  I  don't  see  why  you  should  need  to  inconven- 
ience yourself.  I  have  acquired  more  self-dependence  dur- 
ing the  last  three  or  four  days  than  I  ever  had  before,  and  I 
think  you  can  trust  me  to  take  care  of  myself.  But  I 
should  think  it  would  be  well  to  have  a  carriage  at  com- 


LOUISE  RECEIVES  A  CALLER. 

raand;  and,  uncle,  all  the  expense  I  have  been  to  thus  far 
has  come  from  my  allowance.  You  will  let  me  pay  for  a 
carriage,  won't  you?" 

"If  you  prefer  to,  "said  Mr.  Pembroke,  "and  we  will 
engage  one  in  the  vicinity  of  the  house  as  we  can  reach 
the  place  readily  by  a  cross-town  line  of  cars." 

So  they  proceeded  by  street-car,  and  when  they  alighted 
in  Second  Avenue  they  were  but  a  short  distance  from  the 
desired  number.  Mr.  Pembroke  signaled  to  a  pa-  :ark 

and  instructed  the  driver  to  wait  near  the  h< 
they  were  going.     Then  they  continued  their  way  on  funt. 

Just  before  they  came  to  the  steps  loading  up  to  tin-  d 
their  attention  was  attracted  by  the  noise  of  a   man   run- 
ning behind  them,  and  then  a  voice  panting,  "Miss  Hil- 
man!  Miss  Hilinan !" 

They  turned  about  quickly,  and,  to  her  unspoakahlo  sur- 
prise, Clara  saw  that  it  was  Liti/ki.  His  sallow  fa 
Hushed  with  the  exertion  of  his  long  run,  for  lu>  had 
Hiasrd  th«»m  afoot  from  the  hotel.  He  could  hardly  spoak 
for  lack  of  breath  when  he  came  up  to  them,  but  he  did 
manage  to  gasp: 

"I're  seen  him,  Miss  Hilman,  this  morning 


LIZZIE  WHITE.  127 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

LIZZIE  WHITE. 

Clara  clutched  her  uncle's  arm  convulsively  and  leaned 
heavily  upon  him. 

"You  have  seen  Mr.  Strobel?"  she  whispered. 

All  the  color  fled  from  Litizki's  face  as  he  realized  how 
woefully  he  had  put  his  foot  in  it.  In  the  intensity  of  his 
hate  for  Poubalov  and  his  distrust  of  him,  he  had  forgot- 
ten for  the  moment  that  the  spy  was  but  a  secondary  fig- 
ure in  the  drama  they  were  enacting.  Clara  saw  in  the  lit- 
tle tailor's  distressed  expression  that  she  had  interpreted 
his  words  erroneously.  The  double  shock  well  nigh  un- 
nerved her. 

"Let  us  walk  on  a  little  way,"  she  said  faintly.  Stuyve- 
sant  Square  was  near  by,  and  Mr.  Pembroke  led  her 
within  the  gates  and  sat  with  her  upon  a  bench.  Litizki 
followed  humbly,  suffering  miserably  from  his  indiscreet 
zeal,  and  Clara  told  her  uncle  who  he  was.  Mr.  Pembroke 
asked: 

"Well,  my  man,  who  is  it  you  have  seen?" 

"Alexander  Poubalov,  sir,"  he  replied  with  his  eyes 
upon  the  ground. 

•  Strange!"  said  Mr.  Pembroke,  turning  to  his  niece; 
"did  you  tell  him  you  were  coming  to  New  York?" 

"No;  I  didn't  mean  that  he  should  know  it.  He  called 
at  the  house  yesterday  after  I  had  gone,  and  Louise  writes 
that  she  withheld  any  definite  information  about  my 
whereabout." 

Mr.  Pembroke  looked  inquiringly  at  Litizki. 

"I  came  on  yesterday  by  the  same  train  that  brought 
Miss  Hilman,"  he  said,  "for  I  didn't  know  that  there  was 
anybody  in  New  York  to  watch  out  for  her.  There  was 


128  LlZZli:  \VHJTE. 


nothing  for  me  to  do  in  Boston,  ami  I  was  afraid   for  her. 
Neither  of  you  know  this  man  Poubal«»v  as  1  do.     I  >bou)d 
say  that  he  had  the  gift  of  second  sight,  but  I   d- 
lieve  in  the  supernatural..    He  is  not  only  a  master  of  de- 
ceit, but  he  has  marvelous  po\v  discernment.     1 

certain  that  he  would  pursue  Miss   Hiliuan,  and   1  wanted 
to  do  what  I  could  to  protect  her. 

"Mr.  Litizki  has  been  very  kind   and   faithful,  undo.  " 
said  Clara;  "  you  remember  that  I  told  you  about  him." 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Pembroke,  to  wbom  tin*  idea   nf   bis 
beautiful  niece  under  the  watchful  eye  of  such  an   in 
poaseasintf   man  was  distasteful.     "How  did  you   mmo  to 
see  Poubalov?" 

"I  wont  to  the  hotel  very  early  this  morninp.  ''  v 
reply,  "and  hung  around  where  I  could  keep  all  tho  <1 
in  view.    Poubalov  turned  up.  about  half-past  seven.     Ho 
was  walking  very  rapidly.     He  went  first  into   tin-   1 
near  yours,  and  I  saw  him  examining  the  regis  tbo 

clerk's  d.  >k.    Presently,  with  tho  same  hurried  strides,  ho 
came  out  and  went  into  the  Travelers'.     There  he 
over  several  pages  of  tbo  register,  and  when   ho  had   lh:- 
isbod  he  strollod  to  the  dour  leisurely.     All  his  bur 
gone,  and  after  pausing  to    light  a  oiparotto,   he  v 
slowly  down  the  avenue.     I  remained  to  give  \\arnin 
MNs  Hilman.     I  didn't   know  your   nam--,  sir,  or   I  would 
have   sont  for  you,  and  I  couldn't  get  a   cbawo  to  say  a 
word  until  just  now.  I  am  very  sorry  that  I  gav  Hil- 

man  a  wnmp  imjirt'ssion.  " 

"Don't  think  of  it,  Mr.  Liti/ki,"  said   Clara,  who 
rapidly  recovering  her  accustomed   calmness;    "it  is  all 
over  now.     You   se^,  uncle,  how   strangely   I   am   !>•• 
There  is  no  doubt,  from  Poubalov's  actions,  that  ho  has 
followed  me  here.     What  is  his   purpose?    To  put   Li 
Wbi  to  on  her   guard?     Then  he  has  circumvented  me,  for 
he  has  had   nearly  two  hours  in   -which   to  act  since  he 
found  from  the  register  that  you  were  staying  at  theTniv- 
elers',   and  perhaps  my  name,  too,  was  on  the  book." 

"Yes,  I  put  it  there  myself,  last  night." 


LIZZIE  WHITE.  129 

Clara  rose  and  extended  her  hand  to  Litizki. 

"You  are  a  faithful  friend,"  she  said,  "and  I  am  very 
glad  you  told  me  this.  I  shall  be  the  more  satisfied  with 
my  talk  with  Miss  White  now,  for  I  shall  be  able  to  ask 
questions  that  otherwise  might  not  have  occurred  to  me." 

Litizki  mumbled  some  words  of  acknowledgment  of 
her  kindness,  and  Mr.  Pembroke  asked  anxiously  whether 
she  felt  strong  enough  to  proceed  with  her  programme. 

"Oh,  yes, "  she  answered  bravely ;  "you  won't  need  to 
wait  longer.  I  will  take  the  carriage  afterward  and  Mr. 
Litizki,  I  suppose,  won't  be  far  away  if  I  need  escort." 

"I  shall  not  be  far  from  you  at  any  time,"  said  the 
tailor. 

"I  shall  be  glad  when  you  are  through  with  it,"  sighed 
Mr.  Pembroke.  "I  will  accompany  you  as  far  as  the  house 
as  I  at  first  intended." 

Litizki  hung  back  as  they  started  and  remained  within 
the  entrance  to  the  park  until  he  saw  them  mount  the 
steps,  and  until  Mr.  Pembroke  had  gone  down  again,  leav- 
ing Clara  in  the  house. 

The  servant  who  answered  the  ring  had  readily  admitted 
that  Miss  White  lived  there,  and  had  invited  the  callers  to 
enter.  She  ushered  Clara  into  a  small  reception-room,  and, 
without  asking  her  name,  went  to  find  Lizzie.  Clara  sat 
down  to  wait,  feeling  more  perturbation  than  she  had  ex- 
perienced at  any  time  since  her  trouble  began.  She  had 
not  long  to  pass  in  painful  speculations,  for  Lizzie  White 
promptly  responded  to  the  summons. 

"I  supposed  it  was  you,"  she  said  with  a  hard,  resent- 
ful tone  as  she  entered  the  room. 

Lizzie  would  have  been  a  comely  girl  if  her  rather  sharp 
features  had  been  softened  by  a  pleasant  expression.  On 
the  contrary,  disappointment  and  bitterness  dwelt  in  her 
eyes  and  drew  down  the  corners  of  her  mouth.  She  was 
dressed  as  a  domestic  servant,  wearing  a  white  cap  and 
apron.  She  held  an  open  letter  in  her  hand,  and  sat  down 
in  the  nearest  chair  without  making  the  slightest  advance 
to  the  kindly  greeting  that  was  upon  Clara's  lips  as  she 


130  LIZZIE  WHITE. 

rose.  It  was  as  if  she  expected  a  disagreeable  scene,  and 
was  determined  not  only  to  see  it  through,  but  to  contrib- 
ute her  full  share  to  its  unpleasantness. 

Clara's  greeting  was  unuttered. 

"Why  did  you  think  it  was  I?"  she  asked. 

"This,"  said  Lizzie,   indicating  the  letter;  "it's  fro 
mother." 

"Did  she  tell  you  I  was  coming?" 

"No,  but  she  tells  me  how  you've  hunted  for  Mjrf  Stro- 
bel,  and  how  people  say  he  went  away  with  me.  I  knew 
well  anough  you'd  come  on  here  to  find  him." 

''It  is  hardly  correct,"  said  Clara,  gently,  "to  say  that  I 
came  on  to  find  him,  though  I  would  go  anywhere  to  do 


so.' 


"Yes,  I  guess  you  would." 

Lizzie  was  relentless.  Her  tone  spoke  determination  to 
make  Miss  Hilman  suffer  to  the  utmost.  Clara  conquered 
the  emotions  that  Lizzie  stirred  within  her,  and  added: 

"From  the  start,  Lizzio,  I  have  steadfastly  denied  that 
Mr.  Strobel  went  away  with  you,  or  that  your  departure 
had  to  do  with  his  disappearance.  Please  understand  me: 
I  did  not  expect  to  find  Mr.  Strobel  with  you.  If  I  had 
thought  differently,  I  should  not  have  come." 

Lizzie  laughed  scornfully. 

"No,"  she  said,  "you  would  have  known  that  you  were 
too  late.    You  are  very  brilliant,  Miss  Hilman,  but  I  gt 
you're  finding  that  it  takes  more  than  that  to  hold  a 


man. ' 


This  was  as  bad  as  anything  that  Clara  had  anticipated 
as  among  the  possibilities  of  the  conversation;  but,  hold- 
ing her  great  purpose  firmly  in  mind,  she  persisted  in  con- 
tinuing the  interview.  Suffer  insult  she  must,  but  she 
would  not  give  up  without  obtaining  some  manner  of 
information. 

"For  your  own  good  name,  Lizzie "  began  Clara,  but 

the  girl  interrupted  hotly : 

"My  good  name!  what  have  you  to  do  with  it,  I  should 
like  to  know?  I  hadn't  seen  any  Boston  papers,  and  I 


LIZZIE  WHITE.  131 

didn't  know  until  1  got  this  letter  that  the  whole  city  had 
talked  about  me.  They  have  said  that  I  eloped  with  Mr. 
Strobel,  and  that  settles  it,  I  suppose.  Why  didn't  you  let 
mother  write  to  me  the  day  she  received  my  letter?" 

"I  didn't  ask  her  not  to  write,"  replied  Clara,  feeling  a 
little  guilty  at  the  thrust ;  perhaps  she  had  gone  too  far  in 
influencing  the  communication  between  mother  and 
daughter,  setting  her  own  anxieties  and  griefs  above 
theirs.  "I  asked  her  not  to  mention  Mr.  Strobel's  disap- 
pearance, and  she  chose  herself  not  to  write  at  all.  I  did 
so  because  I  confidently  expected  to  obtain  proofs  in  the 
evening  that  he  could  not  have  gone  with  you." 

"Then  you  did  think  so!"  cried  Lizzie  triumphantly; 
"you  did  fear,  at  least,  that  all  3^our  education  and  money 
and  high  society  ways  were  not  enough  to  keep  him  from 
falling  in  love  with  a  poor  girl  who  has  no  position!" 

"I  had  no  such  thought, "  returned  Clara,  greatly  dis- 
tressed; "I  did  think  that  you  would  be  happier  to  know 
that  such  a  thought  could  not  occur  to  me,  as  you  would 
know  if  the  circumstances  were  such  as  to  prove  that  Mr. 
Strobel  could  not  have  come  to  New  York." 

'Me,  happy!"  exclaimed  Lizzie,  bitterly,  and  then  in 
the  same  breath — "You  found  it  quite  possible  that  he 
could  have  come,  didn't  you?" 

Ignoring  the  last  part  of  her  remark,  Clara  quickly  took 
her  cue  from  the  first,  and  said  very  gently : 

"Your  mother  showed  me  your  letter  in  which  you  said 
you  could  be  almost  happy." 

The  color  rushed  to  Lizzie's  cheeks  as  she  replied: 

"Mother  ought  to  have  known  better." 

Then  she  shut  her  lips  hard  together,  and  it  was  plain 
that  she  was  obstinately  determined  to  say  no  more  on 
that  subject. 

"I  have  sincerely  tried,"  said  Clara,  "to  think  and  act  in 
a  friendly  way,  Lizzie." 

"Friendly  with  a  rival !"  and  again  Lizzie  laughed  with 
bitter  scorn. 

"I  should  not  need  the  evidence  of  your  words, "  re- 


132  LIZZIE  WHITE. 

sponded  Clara,  "to  convince  ine  that  there  never  was  any 
rivalry  between  us." 

She  rose  to  go,  and  Lizzie  looked  at  her  with  startled 
eyes.  Was  this  to  be  the  end  of  the  conversation'/  ( 'lara 
was  the  picture  of  haughty  pride,  unmoved  apparently  by 
any  of  the  thrusts  that  Lizzie  had  tried  t->  make,  so  cruel. 
Jealously  insensible  to  Clara's  kindly  advances,  Li/./.ie  was 
completely  overcome  by  her  manifestation  of  ealm  supe- 
riority. She  bit  her  lip  and  crumpled  her  mother's  letter 
in  her  hand. 

"Mr.  Strobel  is  not  here,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  br 
as  if  the  words  choked  her. 

"I  know  it,"  remarked  Clara,  coolly,  with  her  hand 
upon  the  door. 

"Miss  Hilnian !  don't  go  yet!" 

There  was  the  sign  of  coming  tears  in  Lizzie's  eyes,  and 
Clara  looked  down  upon  h«-r  pityingly. 

Lizzie  made  one  last  effort  to  ret-all  her  determinatio: 
be  bitter,  and  compel  her  visitor  to  suffer  a>  she   si. 
bat  hers  was  not  the  strength  of  character  to  iu 
gencies,  overcome  difficulties,  and  play  a    part    unsw;i 
by  her  deeper,  genuine  devotions.    She  extended  her  .inns 
upon  the  table  before  her,  and,  laying  her  head  upon  th 
burst  into  passionate  crying.     Clara  laid  h  -r  hand 
inirly  on  Lizzie's  head  and  waited  until  the  first  storm    of 
sobs  had  began  to  subside.    Then  she  said  in  a  quint   but 
not  unkind  voice: 

"Lizzie,  have  you  seen  Alexander  Poubalov  this  morn- 
Ing?" 

Tho  girl  half  raised  her  head,  choked  back  the  sobs  and 
replied,  "Who?"  Clara  repeated  the  name  distinctly. 

"I  don't  know  who  he  is,"  answered  Li/./.ie,  wearily. 

"Do  you  remember,"  asked  Clara,  "the  gentleman  who 
called  on  Mr.  Strobel  the  morning  he  was  to  be  married'/" 

"I  remember  somebody  called, "  said  Lizzie,  absently; 
"mother  showed  him  up.  I  didn't  soe  him.  What  has  he 
got  to  do  with  it?  ' 

Clara  felt  that  she  mu*t  believe  the  girl,  but  she  made 


LIZZIE  WHITE.  133 

one  further  move  to  discover  whether  in  any  way  she 
might  be  allied  with  Pouhalov. 

"Has  anybody  been  to  see  you  this  morning?"  she 
asked. 

"No,"  replied  Lizzie;  "what  has  this  man  you  mention  ^ 
got  to  do  with  it?" 

"Everything,  I  think,"  said  Clara.  "It  looks  as  if  he 
had  caused  Mr.  Strobel's  disappearance,  abducted  him  in 
fact,  and  I  know  that  he  followed  me  to  New  York." 

Lizzie  was  not  keen  enough  to  see  that  Clara  had  in- 
ferred a  possible  collusion  between  herself  and  Poubalov. 

"Then,"  she  said,  "Mr.  Strobel  did  not  desert  you  at 
all!"  and  the  tears  welled  from  her  eyes  afresh.  Clara 
knew  that  she  would  speak  further,  and  after  a  moment, 
with  her  face  in  her  hand,  Lizzie  moaned:  "I  am  very  un- 
happy, Miss  Hilmsn.'X 

'You  must  be,  Lizzie, "  returned   Clara,  caressing  her,  V 
"and  I  don't  ask  you  to  tell  me  anything.     I  am   sorry  I 
had  to  break  in  on  you ;  but  if  you  understood  how  I  have 
been  more  than  puzzled  by  the  strange  conduct  of  Mr.  Stro- 
bel's.enemy,  you  would  forgive  me." 

"Forgive?  Why,  Miss  Hilman,  it  is  my  place  to  ask  for 
forgiveness.  I  was  so  brutal  when  you  first  came  in. 
Don  t  you  see,  I,"  her  voice  faltered  pitiably  but  she  con- 
tinued desperately,  "I  loved  Mr.  Strobel  before  he  ever 
met  you,  I  think.  He  never  mentioned  love  to  me,  but  he 
was  so  good  and  kind  that  I  foolishly  thought  he  was  fond 
of  me.  I  suffered  horribly  when  he  told  us  of  his  engage- 
ment, and  I  couldn't  get  over  it.  I  thought  of  running 
away  many  times,  but  I  couldn't  bring  myself  to  do  so 
while  he  was  still  with  us.  I  thought  perhaps  I  would  feel 
differently  after  he  was  gone,  but  on  that  morning  when 
he  was  getting  ready  for  the  church,  I  simply  couldn't  en- 
dure the  thought  of  staying  in  the  house  any  longer.  So  I 
came  away.  I  hadn't  made  any  preparation.  I  took  the 
first  train  I  could  get,  and  while  I  was  waiting  I  wrote  a 
note  to  mother.  Did  you  see  it?  No?  I  started  to  tell  her 
why  I  went,  but  I  couldn't,  and  I  scratched  the  words  out. 


134  LIZZIE  WHITE. 

I  knew  one  friend  in  New  York,  and  she  got  me  employ- 
ment  here,  where  I  thought  I  could  work  hard  and  forged 
I  hadn't  heard  a  word  of  Mr.  Strobel's  disappearance  unJ 
til  I  got  mother's  letter.  Then — then  I  felt  somehow  as  if  it 
was  my  revenge,  and  I  think  I  hated  you  as  much  for! 
your  suffering  as  I  did  because  you  won  his  love." 

Clara  heard  this  painful  confession  with  an  achinJ 
heart.  Her  sympathies  were  deeply  touched  by  the  artless- 
ness  with  which  this  unhappy  girl  had  developed  bitter- 
ness and  discontent  from  her  love  that  it  might  take  J 
lifetime  of  toil  to  soften. 

"We  both  suffer,  Lizzie,"  she  said  gravely;  "I  am  glad 
now  that  I  came.  Shall  I  tell  your  mother  anything?" 

"No!  no!  I  will  write  what  's  necessary.  You  can  sag 
that  I  am  in  a  good  family,  and  that  some  day  I  shall  visit 
her." 

Lizzie  looked  appealingly  at  Clara  as  if  she  would   havJ 
her  remain  longer,  but  no  good  end  was  to  be  accompli 
by  prologing  the  interview,  and  Clara  withdrew. 

As  she  stepped  into  the  waiting  carriage,  she  beckoned 
to  Litizki  who  stood  near  the  next  corner. 

"I  am  going  to  the  hotel,"  she  said,  "and  as  soon  as  I 
can  I  shall  take  the  train  for  Boston.  Will  you  get  in?" 

"No,  thank  you,  Miss  Hilman,"  replied  Litizki, 
abashed.  "I  will  return  by  street-car.  If  you  could  let,  me 
know  what  train  you  intend  to  take,  I  should  like  it." 

"There's  a  train  at  noon.  If  I  can  see  my  uncle  I  will 
take  that." 

She  was  driven  away,  and  Litizki,  head  down  gloomy, 
more  and  more  impressed  with  the  conviction  that  Pou- 
balov  was  not  only  responsible  for  Strobel's  disappear- 
ance, but  that  he  also  plotted  evil  to  Clara,  slowly  left  the 
ricinity.  When  he  was  well  out  of  the  way,  Alexander 
Poubalov  left  the  window  of  a  room  he  had  hired  two  hours 
earlier,  directly  across  the  street  from  the  house  where 
Lizzie  White  lived,  and  came  out  upon  the  sidewalk.  After 
a  quick  glance  up  and  down  the  avenue,  he  went  over  the 
way,  rang  the  bell,  and  asked  to  see  Miss  White. 


HOW  LITIZK1  SAVED  MISS  HILMAN.  135 


CHAPTER  XVH. 

HOW  LITIZKI  SAVED  MISS  HILMAN. 

The  ladies'  entrance  to  the  Travelers'  Hotel  was  upon  the 
same  street  as  the  main  corridor,  almost  next  door  to  it. 
Clara  glanced  in  as  the  carriage  slowly  passed  the  open 
doors  and  she  saw  her  uncle  at  the  further  end,  pacing 
slowly  toward  her.  Two  men  were  with  him  whom  she  did 
not  at  the  moment  recognize,  but  so  anxious  was  she  to 
have  a  word  with  him  that  when  she  alighted,  instead  of 
going  in  at  the  ladies'  entrance,  she  stepped  over  to  the 
main  doorway  and  stood  there  to  attract  his  attention  as 
soon  as  he  should  come  near. 

He  saw  her  immediately  and  quickened  his  pace.  In 
that  instant  she  saw  that  one  of  the  other  men  was  Dex- 
ter, and  that  he  wheeled  abruptly  about,  turning  the 
third  man  around  with  him.  Dexter  hobbled  back  toward 
the  clerk's  desk  and  led  his  companion  out  of  sight  into  a 
passage  that  terminated  in  the  corridor.  Clara  saw  this 
maneuver  but  dimly,  as  her  attention  was  fixed  upon  her 
uncle,  whose  face  had  the  haggard,  anxious  expression 
that  she  had  noticed  on  it  several  times  of  late.  He  was 
quickly  beside  her,  and  attributing  his  anxiety  largely  to 
herself,  she  smiled  bravely  and  said: 

"There  was  no  scandal,  uncle,  and  very  little  of  what 
you  could  call  a  scene." 

"You  are  back  sooner  than  I  thought  for,"  he  responded 
with  something  of  an  effort.  "Did  you  see  anything?" 

"Of  Poubalov?    No." 

"I  mean  Strobel." 

"Oh,  no!  lam  convinced  that  Lizzie  knows  nothing  of 
him,  poor  girl!" 

"So  am  I,"  said  Mr.  Pembroke  with. a  deep  sigh;  "I 


136  HOW  LITIZKI  SAVED  MISS  HILMAN. 

have  had  no  time,  of  course,  to  give  the  matter  much 
thought,  but  my  impression  is,  and  it  grows  constantly 
stronger,  that  you  will  eventually  find  Strobel  in  Boston." 

"And  do  you  think  I  shall  find  him,  uncle?"  asked 
Clara,  eager  for  encouraging  words. 

"I  hope  so,  my  child,  I  hope  so.  It  does  not  seem  possible 
that  this  affair  will  resolve  itself  into  an  unfathomable 
mystery.  There  are  few  such  things  in  real  life,  yon 
know,  and  if  the  worst  had  happened  to  Strobel,  we  would 
have  heard  of  it." 

"It  gives  me  new  courage  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said 
Clara  looking  wistfully  at  her  uncle,  "I  wanted  to  speak 
to  you  simply  to  let  you  know  that  nothing  troublesome 
has  happened,  and  that  it  is  my  intention  to  return  to  Bos- 
ton  as  soon  as  possible,  though  I  don't  know  what  I  can 
do  after  I  get  there." 

"I  would  rest  if  I  were  you,  Clara." 

"I  cannot  think  of  rest  now.  We  will  see.  Something 
may  happen  to  give  me  a  fresh  start,  or  I  may  discover  a 
new  clew  in  something  I  already  know,  the  significance  of 
which  I  have  overlooked." 

"Don't  try  to  do  too  much;  rest  if  you  can,  "pleaded 
Mr.  Pembroke.  "I  shall  return  myself  to-night." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  wait  and  go  with  you?" 

"I  wouldn't,"  exclaimed  her  uncle,  hastily;  "you'll  find 
the  journey  nothing  by  daylight,  and  it  might  be  fati- 
guing at  night.  You  are  familiar  with  it,  and  don't  mind 
traveling  alone  for  so  short  a  time,  do  you?" 

"Not  at  all.  1  merely  thought  you  might  want  me  to 
wait." 

"No,  Dexter  will  have  to  be  with  me.  I  will  be  with  you 
at  home  in  time  for  breakfast.  You'll  take  the  noon  train, 
I  suppose?  Good-by." 

Haste  was  evident  in  Mr.  Pembroke's  manner  as  well  as 
in  his  words,  and  Clara  bade  him  good-by  at  once.  She 
went  to  her  room  for  her  traveling  bag,  and  when  she  re- 
turned to  the  carriage  Litizki  was  waiting  for  her. 

"Is  it  the  noon  train,  Miss  Hilman?"  he  asked. 


HOW  LITIZKI  8 A VED  MISS  HILMAN.  137 

"Yes,"  she  answered;  "won't  you  ride  to  the  station 
with  me?" 

"Do  you  wish  it?"  said  the  little  tailor,  hesitatingly. 

"Of  course  I  do.  Come,  there  may  be  things  we  wish  to 
tell  each  other." 

So  Litizki  sat  beside  her  on  the  way  to  the  station,  and 
after  the  carriage  started  he  said : 

"Miss  Hilman,  I  shrink  from  asking  questions,  and  yet 
I  think  you  will  admit  that  I  have  more  than  curiosity 
about  the  result  of  your  call  on  Miss  White." 

"You  have  every  right  to  know,"  she  responded;  "we 
talked  very  frankly  after  a  while,  and  I  came  away  satis- 
fied that  she  is  not  an  accomplice  of  Poubalov's. " 

Litizki  stared  out  of  the  window  in  silence  for  a  time, 
and  finally  spoke  much  as  if  he  were  addressing  himself: 

"When  Miss  Hilman  says  she  is  satisfied,  it  goes  a  great 
way  to  convince  me." 

"You  are  still  in  doubt,  then?"  asked  Clara. 

"I  cannot  help  being  so.  Poubalov  grows  upon  me  until 
he  is  ever  present  in  my  mind,  like  a  horrid  nightmare, 
'  At  every  step  we  take  it  is  Poubalov.  If  ever  anything  is 
discovered,  you  discover  Poubalov's  hand  in  it.  Whenever 
we  make  an  attempt  to  gain  a  point,  we  are  frustrated, 
and  it  is  Poubalov  who  stands  over  and  above,  in  and 
through  all,  moving  us  with  his  master-hand,  and  setting 
up  obstacles  when  we  would  move  of  our  own  will.  We 
are  at  the  mercy  of  him  who  knows  no  mercy,  and  so  long 
as  Poulabov  remains — in  America,  we  are  without  hope, 
unless  he  accomplishes  his  purpose  and  has  no  further  use 
:  for  Mr.  Strobel." 

Litizki  spoke  with  profound  melancholy  and  just  that 
touch  of  extravagance  in  language  that  Clara  had  noticed 
the  first  time  she  saw  him  in  Mrs.  White's. 

"I  don't  wonder,"  she  said,  "that  you  estimate  Pouba- 
lov's power  for  evil  so  greatly,  and  it  would  be  folly  for 
the  friends  of  Mr.  Strobel  to  underestimate  him ;  and 
yet,  with  a  woman's  imperfect  reasoning,  I  feel  that  we 
shall  some  dajr  outreach  him." 


188  HOW  LITIZKI  SA  VED  MISS  HILMAN. 

"There  is  nothing  imperfect  in  your  reasoning,  Miss 
Hilman, "  and  for  once  Litizki  addressed  her  directly,  his 
gloom y  eyes  fixed  upon  her  own;  "but  you  are  speaking 
from  the  kindness  of  your  heart  rather  than  from  the  L 
of  your  brain.  This  is  not  my  first  experience  with  Pouba- 
lov.  But  no  matter. "  He  turned  away  abruptly  and  airain 
L:. i /ed  out  of  the  window.  "It  is  nothing  short  of  great- 
-  in  you,  "he  continued  presently,  "in  the  midst  of 
your  sorrow  to  try  to  throw  a  little  light  into  my  life. 
Every  kind  word  and  every  encouragement  from  you  hurts 
me  almost  as  much  as  the  oppression  and  injustice  from 
which  1  have  suffered  all  my  life.  Until  I  knew  Mr.  Stro- 
bel  I  knew  not  real  kindness.  I  am  yet  unused  to  it.  and 
so  it  se<  :ietimes  as  if  you  had  stabbed  me.  Butt; 

is  difference,  Miss  Hilman:  Whereas  constant  in  jus- 
tice deadens  the  heart,  kindness  quickens  it,  and  1  shall 
yet  <l>  si  >i nothing,  you  may  be  sure,  that  will  not  only  bo 
evidence  of  my  sincerity  and  devotion,  but  that  will  ac- 
tually help  you." 

"Mr.  Litizki, "  returned  Clara,  disturbed  by  his  morbid 
tone  rather  than  by  his  words,  which  were  but  charac 
istio  of  his  point  of  view,  "you  dwell  too  much  upon  ti 
things,  not  only  upon  what  has  been   evilly  done   to  you, 
but  upon  what  seems  to  you  as  exceptional  goodness.    Let! 
us  not  think  more  about  it  until  the  time  comes  for  action. 
Then  we  shall   be  the  better  prepared   to  think  quickly 
and  effectively.     See,  here  we  are  at  the  depot.    I  will  let] 
you  get  my  ticket  for  me,  as  you  will  have  to  go  to  the 
window  also,  and  I  will  avoid  the  nuisance  of  havin. 
wait  in  the  line." 

Litizki  took  her  purse  without  a  word,  after  she  had 
settled  with  the  driver,  escorted  her  to  a  seat  and   t 
•went  to  the   ticket  window.     When   he   returned  he 
played  unusual  coolness,  for  him,  as   he  handed  her  the 
ticket  and  said : 

"Poubalov  will  go  by  the  same  train  as  you.    He  is  eve™ 
now  in  this  room,  and  he  saw  me  buy  the   t 


HOW  LITIZKI  SAVED  MISS  HILMAN.  139 

course  I  pretended  not  to  see  him,  but  he  despises  me  and 
cares  not  for  all  my  efforts." 

Clara  felt  no  fear  at  this  information,  but  it  neverthe- 
less aroused  a  sense  of  discomfort.  A  presentiment  of  mis- 
fortune she  readily  dismissed ;  this  fact  of  being  persist- 
ently "shadowed"  by  a  man  whom  she  believed  to  be  her 
enemy  she  could  not  dismiss,  and  she  could  not  shake  off 
the  irritation  caused  by  it. 

"Suppose,"  suggested  Litizki,  "that  you  pretend  to 
take  this  train  but  really  wait  for  the  next  one." 

"No,  "replied  Clara,  "I  will  not  be  interfered  with  in 
my  movements  by  Poubalov.  I  suppose  it  is  his  right  to 
take  the  train,  if  he  chooses  to  do  so,  as  well  as  it  is  mine. 
I  will  go  to  my  car  now,  please,  and  if  he  ventures  to  in- 
trude upon  me  I  shall  know  how  to  relieve  myself  of  his 
presence." 

Litizki's  eyes  sparkled  with  exultant  satisfaction  for 
just  an  instant,  and  then  the  fire  that  lit  them  subsided  to 
a  steady  glow  that  would  have  revealed  a  fixed  and  awful 
purpose  had  anybody  seen  it  and  read  it  correctly.  But  he 
kept  his  eyes  averted  as  he  escorted  Clara  to  the  car, 
thinking  of  her  words,  weighing  them,  repeating  them  to 
himself.  They  sank  deep  into  his  brain,  where  his  percep- 
tions of  life,  disordered  by  a  rankling  sense  of  injustice, 
distorted  them  and  threw  them  back  to  the  surface  of  his 
thoughts  with  an  interpretation  all  his  own. 

"She  has  the  nature  of  heroes,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"and  she  is  capable  of  it!  She  is  great,  grand!  How  fitting 
that  Alexander  Poubalov  should  meet  at  last  a  foe  of  infi- 
nite spirit,  intellect  as  keen  as  his  own,  courage  unfalter- 
ing, and  that  foe  a  woman !  But  she  is  a  woman,  and  her 
place  is  beside  my  benefactor.  She  must  be  saved  for  him 
and  for  herself.  She  must  be  spared  this  demonstration  of 
her  right  to  rank  with  heroes.  I  know  what  she  is,  and 
Strobel  shall  know  when,  Poubalov  out  of  the  way,  he 
gains  his  freedom.  She  must  be  saved,  and  I  must  save 
her.  It  is  my  fate!" 

Wholly  unsuspicious  of  the  raving  that  was  going  on  in 


110  HOW  LITIZKI  SA  VED  MISS  HILMAN. 

her  strange  companion's  mind,  Clara  proceeded  to  the  car 
and  took  the  chair  that  the  porter  pointed  out  to  her.  For 
just  an  instant  it  occurred  to  her  to  ask  Litizki  to  sit  with 
her,  but  there  was  nothing  Quixotic  in  her  character;  she 
knew  that  the  little  tailor  would  he  immeasurably  hurt  if 
she  should  suggest  paying  his  traveling  expenses,  and, 
withal,  he  made  her  uncomfortable.  She  thought  very 
kindly  of  him,  but  she  felt  no  need  of  his  protection. 

"We  will  meet  again  in  Boston,"  she  said,  pleasantly, 
"and  we  may  yet  do  some  work  together." 

"Perhaps  so, "  responded  Litizki.  "I  shall  be  on  the 
train,  and  if  you  like  I  will  watch  outside  till  it  starts  and 
let  you  know  whether  Poubalov  gets  on  board." 

"It's  hardly  necessary,"  said  Clara;  "still,  if  you  would 
rather  do  so,  I  have  no  objection." 

Litizki,  therefore,  loitered  on  the  platform  beside  the 
train  until  just  before  starting  time.  Then  he  went  to 
Clara  and  told  hor  that  Poubalov  had  taken  a  seat  in  the 
car  just  lu'hind  hers. 

"I  have  no  fear,"  she  assured  him,  "but  you  may  look 
for  me  when  we  get  to  Boston." 

She  made  this  arrangement  wholly  for  his  sake,  realiz- 
ing the  man's  devotion  and  anxiety  to  serve  her.  He 
bowed  gravely  and  made  his  way  to  the  platform  again, 
but  instead  of  going  to  an  ordinary  coach  he  climbed  the 
steps  to  the  rear  platform  of  the  parlor  car  in  which  Pou- 
balov sat. 

"Can  you  give  mo  a  seat  in  this  car?"  he  asked  of  the 
conductor  as  the  train  started. 

"There's  just  one  left,"  replied  the  official  as  he  con- 
sulted his  slips  after  a  curious  glance  at  the  inquirer. 

Litizki  paid  for  the  seat  immediatley.  It  was  at  the  very 
back  of  the  car,  against  the  partition  of  the  smoking  room 
wherein  Poubalov  was  at  the  time  seeking  the  comfort  he 
found  in  cigarettes. 

The  train  had  been  in  motion  more  than  an  hour  when 
Poubalov  appeared.  He  saw  Litizki,  and  raised  his  brows 
slightly,  as  if  in  mild  surprise.  With  no  other  sign  of  reo- 


HOW  LITIZKI  8 A VED  MISS  HILMAN.  141 

ognition  he  took  his  seat,  which  was  in  about  the  middle 
of  the  car. 

Hours  passed  slowly  while  the  train  rushed  on  as  if 
madly  intent  upon  checking  the  flight  of  time.  Poubalov 
occupied  himself  with  a  book.  Litizki  could  not  have  fol- 
lowed the  words  on  a  printed  page  had  he  tried  to  do  so. 
His  brain  worked  over  and  over  the  idea  that  had  found 
its  way  there  days  before,  and  he  could  not,  if  he  would, 
have  thought  of  anything  else. 

"The  time  matters  not, "he  argued  with  himself;  "as 
well  now  as  at  another,  but  there  must  be  provocation  if 
possible.  If  there  is  no  provocation,  then  proceed  without 
it.  It  must  be  done  at  all  hazard.  And  there  must  be  no 
failure." 

Somewhere  between  Westerly  and  Providence  the  train 
came  to  a  stop.  There  was  trouble  with  the  engine — what, 
it  matters  not.  The  train  could  not  proceed  until  the  dam- 
age had  been  repaired.  A  brakeman  was  sent  forward  to 
the  next  station  to  telegraph  for  assistance,  and  the  engi- 
neer busied  himself  in  effecting  a  temporary  adjustment 
of  the  machinery,  so  that  some  progress  could  be  made 
even  though  it  were  slow.  Poubalov  went  forward  with 
many  passengers  to  watch  the  work,  and  Litizki  followed 
him.  Altogether  nearly  two  hours  were  lost  by  the  acci- 
dent, so  that  it  was  dark  when  the  train  rushed  through 
the  suburbs  of  Boston. 

Poubalov  then  rose  and  went  into  the  car  forward.  Li- 
tizki went  after  and  saw  the  spy  drop  into  a  chair  not 
far  from  where  Clara  sat,  her  back  to  the  window,  her 
profile  clearly  in  view.  There  were  many  vacant  seats  in 
the  car,  some  unoccupied  at  the  moment  because  the  pas- 
sengers, weary  with  the  long  journey,  were  standing  up, 
making  early  preparations  for  departure.  All  the  men 
were  at  the  forward  end,  waiting  their  turns  at  the  wash- 
room. 

The  train  had  just  rolled  past  Roxbury  crossing,  two 
miles  from  the  terminus,  when  Poubalov  rose  again  and 
sauntered  forward,  sinking  negligently  into  the  chair 


112  HOW  LITIZKI  SAVED  MISS  HILMAN. 

back  of  Clara  which  had  just  been  vacated  by  a  lady  who 
was  now  submitting  to  the  brush  of  the  porter. 

Litizki  saw  Clara  start  when  Poubalov  addressed  her, 
and  his  hand  sought  his  pocket,  but  he  withdrew  it 
empty  when  he  observed  that  the  spy  had  left  his  cane 
Waning  against  the  side  of  the  car  near  his  former  seat. 

"That  will  do  better,"  muttered  the  tailor,  and  he  went 
to  Poubalov's  chair,  took  the  cane  in  his  hands,  and,  all 
unobserved  by  any  of  the  preoccupied  passengers,  released 
the  catch  and  drew  forth  the  long  blade.  Concealing  it  by 
his  side  as  he  took  the  few  remaining  steps  that  lay  be- 
tween him  and  his  victim,  he  presently  raised  it  high  over 
Poubalov's  heart,  and  with  the  words,  "I  will  do  it  for 
you,  Miss  Hilman!"  brought  it  down  with  all  his  force. 

Poubalov  fell  into  the  aisle  with  a  loud  gasp,  and  Clara, 
uttering  one  scream  of  terror,  bent  over  him. 

Litizki  dashed  to  the  rear  platform.  There  was  nobody 
in  his  way  save  one  or  two  frightened  women.  The  brake- 
man  had  already  opened  the  doors  of  the  vestibuled  plat- 
form and  before  any  one  could  lay  hands  upon  him,  the 
little  tailor  had  swung  himself  off  into  the  darkness. 


THE  KEY  TO  IVAN'S  PRISON.  143 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   KEY   TO   IVAN'S  PRISON. 

The  train  was  proceeding  at  such  comparatively  slow 
speed  that  Litizki,  though  he  had  jumped  blindly  and 
though  he  fell  full  length  on  the  ground,  was  not  hurt.  Be- 
fore the  rear  car  had  passed  he  was  on  his  feet  and  mak- 
ing across  the  tracks.  A  fence  too  high  for  him  to  scale 
barred  his  progress,  and  he  hurried  in  the  direction  of 
Roxbury,  looking  for  some  means  of  egress  from  the 
yard"  through  which  the  railroad  ran.  He  found  it  at 
last,  a  narrow  gate  in  the  fence  at  the  end  of  a  short 
street.  The  gate  was  unlocked,  and  Litizki  was  soon  upon 
Columbus  Avenue. 

Until  then  he  had  been  conscious  of  no  especial  emotion, 
and  his  course  had  been  taken  instinctively  rather  than 
with  a  definite  purpose  of  effecting  his  escape;  but  instead 
of  breathing  free  now  that  he  was  where  for  a  time  at 
least  he  could  mingle  with  the  passers  unsuspected,  a 
great  fear  came  upon  him.  Throughout  all  the  long  jour- 
ney he  had  nursed  his  awful  purpose  calmly  and  stead- 
fastly, never  for  an  instant  wavering ;  now  he  seemed  still 
to  feel  the  handle  of  the  dagger  in  his  palm,  he  saw  the 
blade  flash  as  he  poised  it  over  Poubalov's  heart,  and  he 
heard  again  the  loud  gasp  with  which  the  spy  fell  under 
the  blow.  Litizki  trembled.  His  throat  was  parched,  his 
skin  hot,  but  dry  as  the  dust  on  the  pavement.  He  glanced 
furtively  up  and  down  the  avenue,  as  if  to  see  the  police- 
man who  would  presently  arrest  him. 

Litizki  had  paused,  unable  to  walk  without  staggering, 
when  he  dropped  so  completely  from  heroism  to  trepida- 
tion. He  grasped  a  trolley  post  for  support  and  was  dimly 
conscious  that  two  or  three  girls  who  were  passing 
laughed  at  him  for  being  helplessly  drunk.  Half  uncon- 


144  TEE  KEY  TO  IVAN'S  PRISON. 

sciously  he  felt  in  his  pocket  and  drew  forth  the  revolver 
with  which  he  had  intended  to  kill  the  spy.  Should  he 
not  end  his  misery  then  and  there,  and  cheat  the  hang- 
man? He  looked  down  at  the  tiny  barrel,  so  large  in  irs 
tragic  possibilities,  and  with  the  thought  that  he  had  but 
to  exercise  a  steady  hand  upon  himself  as  he  had  upon 
Poubalov  in  order  to  plunge  into  oblivion,  he  began  to  iv- 
cover.  The  grated  cover  of  a  sewer  basin  was  at  his  fret 
and  he  dropped  the  weapon  upon  it.  It  rebounded  a  very 
littlo  and  then  slipped  through  the  grating,  out  of  sight 
and  out  of  reach.  Litizki  instantly  wondered  why  he  had 
done  that. 

"That  was  unreasonable.  The  revolver  was  not  evi- 
dence,*'he  muttered,  and  then  a  wild  joy  surged  in  his 
heart  as  he  reflected  tbathe  had  accomplished  his  purpose. 

"That  was  no  crime  in  the  light  of  reason,"  he  argued. 
"The  necessities  of  the  situation  demanded  it,  and  though 
the  law  will  say  otherwise,  I  am  content." 

He  was  almost  himself  again  now,  and  it  flashed  upon 
him  that  his  work,  after  all,  was  but  half  done.  There  was 
one  other  stop  to  be  taken  before  his  heroic  deed  could  bo 
of  service  to  her  whom  he  worshiped,  and  to  his  bt >nefae- 
tor  whom  he  idolized.  Strobel  must  be  freed,  but  how? 
Certainly  not  by  standing  there  at  the  curb  in  plain  view, 
waiting  to  bo  arrested.  No;  whatever  be  his  ultimate  1 
he  must  effect  at  least  a  temporary  escape. 

Once  more  steadied  by  a  purpose  to  strive  for,  Litizki 
crossed  the  avenue  and  walked  on  in  the  same  general  di- 
rection until  he  came  to  Washington  Street.  His  delay  at 
the  curb  had  been  brief  as  measured  by  the  watch.  \Vifh 
every  step  he  took  his  brain  grew  clearer.  He  saw  the 
folly  of  going  to  Poubalov 's  lodging-house  in  Bulfinch 
Place  for  the  purpose  of  releasing  Strobel.  His  conviction 
that  Strobel  was  confined  there  had  not  been  shaken  by 
any  of  the  events  since  his  failure  to  expose  Poubalov's  se- 
cret. News  of  the  murder  would  undoubtedly  be  taken  to 
that  house  before  he  could  get  there.  The  release  must  be 
effected  by  some  other  hand  than  his  own ;  but  what  mat- 


THE  KEY  TO  IVAN'S  PRISON.  145 

ter?  He  had  made  the  release  possible.  Miss  Hilman 
would  ever  give  him  credit  for  it,  and  that  was  enough,  as 
undoubtedly  she  would  tell  Strobel  how  it  came  to  pass. 

His  plan  of  operation  was  fully  formed  when  he 
reached  Washington  Street.  He  boarded  the  first  Chelsea 
ferry  car  that  came  along,  and  set  himself  to  thinking  of  it. 
When  the  conductor  touched  his  shoulder  to  remind  him 
of  his  fare,  he  started  violently  as  if  the  avenging  hand  of 
law  had  been  laid  upon  him.  There  was  a  recurrence  of 
the  dreadful  fear  that  had  momentarily  possessed  him,  and 
again  he  shook  as  if  with  an  ague.  He  felt  an  almost  irre- 
sistible impulse  to  jump  from  the  car  and  run;  and  when 
at  last  he  left  it,  near  the  far  end  of  Hanover  Street,  he 
had  not  yefc  recovered.  With  great  difficulty  he  dragged 
his  steps  through  the  crowded  streets  of  the  North  End 
until  he  came  to  the  house  where  Vargovitch  lived.  As  he 
climbed  the  stairs,  he  felt  his  courage  return;  and  when 
Vargovitch  bade  him  enter,  he  was  again  the  somber, 
depressed  figure  with  which  all  his  acquaintances  were  fa- 
miliar. 

'Vargovitch, "  he  said  directly  but  with  averted  eyes, 
;I  leave  the  country  to-morrow,  never  to  return.  Do  not 
ask  me  why.  You  will  know  soon  enough  after  I  have 
gone.  See,  I  have  so  much  money,"  and  he  emptied  the 
contents  of  his  purse  upon  the  table.  "It  is  enough  for  the 
present,  perhaps,  but  j  shall  some  day  need  more,  and  I 
leave  behind  me  accounts  and  stock,  to  say  nothing  of 
business  good  will,  that  are  of  value.  I  want  you  to  help 
me  realize  upon  them." 

Vargovitch  looked  sternly  at  his  friend. 

"That  mad  head  of  yours,"  he  responded,  "has  led  you 
at  last  to  difficulty  from  which  there  is  no  exit.  I  will  ask 
no  questions,  Litizki,  but  I  will  not  be  concerned  in  your 
affair.  You  should  not  have  come  here." 

Litizki  was  sufficiently  master  of  himself  to  repress  the 
tremor  that  threatened  him. 

"Do  you  desert  me,  Vargovitch?"  he  asked,  turning  his 
dull  eyes  apathetically  on  his  comrade. 


146  THE  KEY  TO  IVAN'S  PRISON. 

"I'll  accept  no  responsibility  for  what  you  may  have 
done, "  returned  Vargovitch,  "I  will  neither  harbor  you 
nor  inform  upon  you." 

"I  do  not  ask  the  one,  and  I  know  you  would  not  do  the 
other.  I  shall  remain  but  a  short  time.  Come !  will  you 
take  my  business  and  dispose  of  it  for  me?" 

"Money  cannot  be  raised  among  our  people  to-night." 

"I  know  it,  but  you  can  send  me  some  when  you  have 
collected.  Let  me  sit  down  and  write  a  moment." 

Vargovitch  silently  placed  writing  materials  before 
him,  and  Litizki  wrote  rapidly.  When  he  had  done,  he 
handed  the  paper  to  his  friend.  It  was  a  surrender  of  all 
his  business  property  to  Vargovitch,  as  complete  a  bill  of 
sale  as  he  could  draw. 

"Take  it  or  destroy  it,"  said  Litizki;  "I  go  now,  and  by 
and  by  I  shall  send  you  my  address.  If  you  have  accepted 
the  trust  I  impose  upon  you,  you  will  send  me  money;  if 
not — "  The  tailor  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  went  to 
the  door.  "It  is  the  last  time  you  look  upon  me,  Vargo- 
vitch," he  concluded. 

"It  is  a  wild  scheme,"  mutterd  Vargovitch,  looking  at 
the  document,  "but  we  will  see." 

The  noise  of  the  door  closing  aroused  him.  Litizki  had 
left  the  room. 

On  the  street  Litizki  again  had  to  struggle  against  the 
fear  that  his  crime  excited.  All  through  the  long  night  it 
came  to  him  at  irregular  intervals,  and  he  vibrated  be- 
tween an  exaltation  when  he  regarded  himself  as  a  hero, 
and  abject  cowardice  when  the  rustling  of  a  leaf  made 
his  very  soul  shiver.  On  this  occasion,  that  is,  after  leav- 
ing Vargovitch,  he  staggered  through  unfamilicir  streets 
and  alleys,  hoping  that  no  friend  would  see  him,  and  at 
length  during  a  period  of  self-possession,  he  crossed  the 
ferry  to  East  Boston.  There  he  took  a  room  in  an  emi- 
grant's hotel  near  the  Cunard  steamship  dock.  He  knew 
that  some  boat  of  this  line  would  depart  on  the  morrow, 
the  regular  sailing  day,  and  he  had  resolved  to  take  pas- 
sage in  it. 


THE  KEY  TO  IVAN'S  PEI80N.  147 

In  the  office  of  the  hotel  he  found  that  the  boat  was  the 
Cephalonia,  and  that  she  was  scheduled  to  start  at  half- 
past  eleven.  That  was  a  late  hour,  and  he  would  be  in 
great  peril  until  then,  but  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
take  his  changes.  So  he  gathered  up  a  lot  of  writing  mate- 
rials and  retired  to  his  room.  He  spent  most  of  the  night 
in  writing  to  Clara. 

''In  staying  yo'ir  hand, "  he  began  abruptly,  without 
address  of  any  sort,  "from  exacting  from  Alexander  Pouba- 
lov  the  penalty  of  his  crime  against  you,  the  penalty 
which  your  hand  alone  was  worthy  to  exact,  I  was  im- 
pelled not  by  egotism,  or  sudden  emotion.  It  was  my  pur- 
pose to  save  you  for  a  happier  career  than  with  all  your 
nobility  of  character  you  could  have  achieved  had  you 
yourself  done  the  deed.  I  shall  try  to  escape  the  punish- 
ment that  society  would  inflict  upon  me  for  this  act  of 
justice,  for  I  find  that  at  this  moment  I  cling  to  my  miser- 
able life  as  does  the  dog  whose  master  starves  and  mal- 
treats him.  If  I  do  not  escape,  it  will  matter  not  at  all, 
and  I  ask  no  tears  from  your  beautiful  eyes.  I  know  your 
character  so  well  that  I  shall  die  content  with  the  grati- 
tude that  I  know  will  warm  your  heart  for  your  unwor- 
thy servant. 

"The  blow  that  struck  away  the  mighty  obstacle  to  your 
success  and  happiness  was  but  the  key  to  the  door  that  is 
closed  upon  Ivan  Strobel.  The  happiness  of  opening  that 
door  with  my  own  hands  is  not  to  be  for  me,  and  I  do  not 
deserve  it.  I  am  content  to  show  you  the  wray. 

"Poubalov's  rooms  are  at  32  Bulfinch  Place.  He  occupies 
two,  possibly  three  rooms  there,  and  in  the  sense  that  he 
has  undoubtedly  bought  the  landlady,  the  whole  house  is 
his.  I  am  convinced  that  Strobel  is  confined  there,  and 
that  that  has  been  his  prison  house  since  his  abduction 
last  Monday.  There  will  be  no  bar  now  to  3Tour  going  to 
the  house  and  releasing  your  lover  and  my  benefactor.  1 
will  tell  you  what  room  he  is  in,  or  at  all  events  was  in 
last  Thursday  night;  and  that  you  may  thoroughly  under- 
stand me,  Iwill  relate  how  I  came  to  know  this,  although 


148  THE  KEY  TO  IVAN'S  PRISON. 

in  so  doing  I  shall  lay  bare  to  you  the  secrets  of  my  hoart 
and  confess  to  you  the  weak,  good-for-nothing  that  I  am — 
such  as  you  yourself  have  found  me  to  be.  I  hope  my  ac- 
tion of  this  evening  will  redeem  me  somewhat  in  your 
eyes." 

Here  followed  a  detailed  account  of  Litizki's  attempted 
rescue  of  Strobel,  and  he  mitigated  none  of  the  mortifying 
occurrences,  freely  confessing  himself  a  child  in  the  hands 
of  his  adversary. 

"The  room  where  Strobel  was  confined  on  that  nijrht," 
he  continued,  "is  the  little  one  adjoining  Poubalov's  main 
room.  It  is  directly  over  the  hall  as  you  enter,  one  flight 
up.  I  doubt  very  much  whether  Poubalov  has  transferred 
his  prisoner  to  any  other  part  of  the  house,  for  that  would 
have  provoked  comment  and  perhaps  suspicion  among  the 
lodgers.  Your  happiness,  therefore,  is  now  in  your  own 
hands,  and  if  j  escape  I  shall  never  see  you  again.  I  could 
almost  wish  that  I  would  be  taken,  for  the  certainty  that 
you  would  come  to  visit  me  in  my  cell ;  but  it  is  my  desire 
to  relieve  you  of  everything  that  might  even  remind  you 
of  sorrow,  and  I  therefore  take  leave  of  you  in  this  letter 
with  the  hope  that  you  will  act  upon  it  without  delay,  and 
that  no  accident  will  rob  you  of  the  reward  which  your 
loyalty  merits." 

He  signed  his  name  without  any  formal  concluding 
phrases,  and  having  addressed,  stamped  and  sealed  the 
envelope,  he  went  out  to  post  it.  The  dawn  was  just 
breaking,  and  he  could  see  with  sufficient  clearness  all 
about  the  street  and  the  freight  yard  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
hotel.  No  one,  apparently,  was  stirring  save  himself.  Be- 
lieving that  Clara  would  get  the  letter  sooner  if  he  took 
it  to  a  post  office  instead  of  a  street  box,  he  attempted  to 
find  one.  He  knew  there  must  be  a  branch  office  in  East 
Boston  somewhere,  but  he  knew  not  whore  to  look  for  it. 
He  had  come  to  the  corner  of  Mavtrick  Square  when  he 
saw  a  policeman  standing  within  the  shadow  of  a  building. 
A  violent  shudder  came  over  him  as  he  suddenly  realized 
that  he  had  taken  one  step  toward  the  officer  with  a  view 


t 


THE  KEY  TO  IVAN'S  PRISON. 


o  asking  the  way  to  the  post  office !  One  of  his  fits  of  fear 
attacked  him  and  again  he  staggered,  but  if  the  policeman 
had  any  thought  of  arresting  him  for  drunkenness,  he 
gave  no  indication  of  it,  and  Litizki  stumbled  on  undis- 
turbed. 

When  he  thought  he  could  do  so  safely,  he  turned  into 
a  doorway  to  recover.  He  saw  a  street  letter-box  within 
twenty  feet,  but  as  he  started  toward  it,  letter  in  hand, 
he  heard  a  bell  ringing. 

"The  ferry!"  he  muttered,  and  he  began  to  run  toward 
the  river.  With  all  his  fears  the  little  tailor  kept  his  head 
faithful  to  his  purpose.  It  was  now  in  his  thoughts  that 
he  would  cross  the  river  to  the  mainland  and  post  his  let- 
ter in  the  general  office  on  Devonshire  Street,  whence  he 
knew  it  would  be  taken  with  the  least  delay  to  Mr.  Pem- 
broke's house.  He  was  conscious  of  the  risk  in  thus  show- 
ing himself  even  in  the  solitary  hours  of  the  early  morn- 
ing, but  his  courage  was  returning,  and  he  felt  again  a 
hero  who  would  brave  all  for  her  to  whom  he  owed  fealty. 

The  gateman  at  the  ferry  heard  him  running  down  the 
street  and  held  the  boat  for  him.  Litizki  sank  breathless 
upon  a  bench  and  felt  again  the  triumph  of  his  deed.  He 
reveled  in  the  difficulties  he  was  overcoming  and  the  dan- 
gers that  beset  him. 

A  car  was  waiting  at  the  city  side  of  the  ferry,  and  Li- 
tizki rode  in  it  as  far  as  Scollay  Square.  Then  he  walked 
to  the  post  office,  and  remembering  that  a  stamp  window 
was  open  all  night,  he  found  it  and  added  to  his  letter  a 
"special  delivery." 

"Now,"  he  muttered,  dropping  the  important  missive 
in  the  box,  "it  doesn't  matter  what  happens  to  me." 

He  returned  on  foot  by  devious  ways  to  the  ferry,  more 
than  once  evading  marketmen  and  other  early  pedestrians 
as  he  felt  the  recurrence  of  terror,  and  at  length  came 
again  to  his  hotel.  The  employees  of  the  house  were  astir, 
steerage  passengers  were  beginning  to  arrive,  and  Litizki 
felt  a  sudden  repugnance  to  the  solitude  of  his  chamber. 
He  sat  by  a  window  in  the  office  and  watched  the  groups 


150  THE  KEY  TO  IVAN'S  PRISON. 

of  men  and  women  who  gradually  gathered  at  the  en- 
trance to  the  dock,  waiting  to  go  on  board  the  Cephalonia, 
or  to  bid  good-by  to  friends  and  relatives. 

Before  very  long  he  heard  the  strident  voice  of  a  news- 
boy calling  his  morning  wares.  He  listened  for  a  quota- 
tion of  startling  headlines,  expecting  that  the  murder  of  a 
passenger  in  a  drawing-room  car  would  be  the  groat  n 
feature  of  the  day.  Perhaps  this  boy  had  not  read  his 
papers  carefully.  At  all  events,  he  shouted  nothing  what- 
ever concerning  the  event  that  had  crowned  Litizki's  life 
and  made  him  a  hero  and  a  coward  at  once. 

After  some  hesitation  the  tailor  bought  a  paper,  and 
ran  his  eyes  over  the  captions  of  the  leading  articles.  J  Io 
found  no  reference  to  his  deed  there,  He  examined  the 
paper,  column  by  column,  from  first  page  to  last,  and  not 
one  line  set  forth  so  much  as  a  hint  of  Poubalov's  tragic 
end. 


THE  GHOST  OF  POUBALOV.  151 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    GHOST    OF    POUBALOV, 

Litizki  laid  the  newspaper  down  and  tried  to  reflect. 
He  had  not  slept  at  all  since  he  awoke  from  a  very  brief 
nap  in  New  York  the  morning  before ;  therefore,  he  had 
not  dreamed  the  scene  in  the  drawing-room  car.  With  his 
own  hand  he  had  actually  struck  Poubalov  to  the  heart, 
and  his  victim  had  fallen  with  the  gasp  and  shudder  of 
death.  This  was  so,  and  no  newspaper  could  make  it  other- 
wise; but  how  should  it  happen  that  the  reporters  had 
missed  the  episode? 

It  had  happened  upon  a  railroad  train ;  what  more  prob- 
able, then,  than  that  the  railroad  officials  had  suppressed 
the  news?  He  bad  read  many  accounts  of  accidents  in 
which  the  reporters  set  forth  the  reticence  of  officials 
and  employees. 

"They  imagine,"  thought  Litizki,  "that  it  is  not  for 
their  interest  to  let  the  public  know  that  so  violent  a 
crime,  so  they  would  call  it,  could  be  committed  in  one  of 
their  high-toned  cars,  and  that,  moreover,  the  murderer 
could  escape." 

This  thought  appeased  for  a  moment  the  new  fear  that 
threatened  to  unman  him  for  all  time,  the  fear  that  he 
had  failed !  Though  he  openly  and  emphatically  repudi- 
ated all  superstitions,  and  boasted  over  and  again  that  his 
life  and  views  were  ruled  by  reason  alone,  he  was  yet  sub- 
ject to  influences  that,  if  they  were  not  superstitions, 
were  remarkably  like  them.  Among  these  were  his  esti- 
mate of  Poubalov,  whose  invincibility  seemed  to  surpass 
human  powers  and  attributes.  Litizki  was  conscious  of 
this  tendency  to  surround  the  spy  with  a  supernatural  at- 
mosphere, and  he  struggled  against  it,  the  result  of  his 
struggle  invariably  being  his  deeper  self-abasement  as  he 


152  THE  GHOST  OF  POUBALOV. 

recognized  Poubalov's  immeasurable  superiority.  Now  he 
felt  again  this  superhuman  character  of  the  spy  appealing 
to  him,  setting  his  poor  brain  in  a  whirl,  and  blurring  his 
eyes  as  if  a  mighty  wind  had  taken  up  the  dust  of  the 
street  and  hold  it  suspended  in  a  dense  cloud  before  him. 
"Bah!"  exclaimed  Litizki,  striking  his  brow  angrily, 
"he  cannot1' — and  he  stopped  suddenly,  conscious  that  he 
was  speaking  aloud.  There  was  nobody  in  the  room  but  a 
sleepy  clerk,  who  looked  up  curiously  from  his  ledger  and 
then  bent  his  head  again  over  his  work.  Litizki  tried  to 
force  his  thoughts  away  from  the  topics  that  absorbed 
him.  It  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  eaten  nothing  since 
the  morning  before,  and  he  went  to  the  hotel  restaurant. 
On  the  table  at  which  he  took  a  seat  was  a  newspaper  left 
by  some  previous  customer.  It  was  the  same  journal  that 
had  beaten  its  contemporaries  in  the  first  publication  of 
the  rumor,  that  was  finally  accepted  as  news,  concerning 
the  elopement  of  Strobel  and  Lizzie  White.  Litizki  recalled 
the  superior  enterprise  of  this  paper,  and  while  waiting 
for  his  breakfast,  he  looked  it  over.  Yes!  there  it  was, 
and  his  heart  bounded  with  joy  and  fear  at  once.  It  was 
not  a  long  story  under  a  half-column  head,  but  the  few 
lines  were  double-leaded,  and  paragraphed  at  every  period. 
A  newspaper  man  would  have  seen  at  a  glance  that  the 
item  had  come  in  late,  after  the  forms  were  made  up,  and 
that  the  editor  had  "lifted"  a  story  of  minor  interest  to 
make  room  for  this.  "Probable  Murder,"  was  the  caption, 
and  the  statement  beneath  it  was  as  follows : 

"A  passenger  in  one  of  the  drawing-room  cars  attached  to  the  New 
York  express  due  at  Park  Square  at  six  P.M.,  but  some  hours  late 
last  night,  was  stabbed  just  before  the  train  reached  the  station. 

"It  is  believed  that  the  wound  was  mortal. 

"The  assailant  took  advantage  of  the  excitement  and  confusion  to 
jump  from  the  train. 

"No  trace  of  him  has  been  found. 

"The  name  of  the  victim  is  not  known  at  this  writing. 

"No  rumor  concerning  the  tragedy  reache  this  office  until  long 
after  midnight. 

"The  police,  to  whom  the  railroad  officials  secretly  reported  the 


THE  GHOST  OF  POUBALOV.  153 

affair,  for  reasons  best  known  to  themselves,  withhold  information, 
but  they  admit  that  the  assault  took  place  as  described  above. 

"It  is  believed  that  the  murderer  will  be  arrested  this  morning. 

"An  extra  edition  giving  full  details  of  this  occurrence  will  be  pub' 
lished  at  ten  o'clock." 

Litizki  looked  cautiously  around  the  room.  A  policeman 
in  full  uniform  was  eating  at  a  table  near  the  door.  For 
one  instant  the  tailor  meditated  flight  through  an  open 
window.  Then  he  pulled  himself  together  and  ate  his 
breakfast,  "We  shall  see,"  he' thought,  and  he  hastened, 
that  he  might  finish  ahead  of  the  policeman  and  pass  di- 
rectly in  front  of  him  on  the  way  to  the  office. 

''If  he  is  here  to  arrest  me,"  reflected  Litizki,  "he  will 
ohey  his  instructions  when  he  sees  me  go  out.  If  he  lets 
me  alone,  it  will  mean  that  there  is  still  a  chance  for 
me." 

The  policeman  did  not  stir  when  Litizki  passed  him.  The 
tailor  paid  his  bill,  and,  the  dock  being  open,  went  to  the 
steamship  office  and  bought  a  steerage  ticket  for  Liver- 
pool. He  was  exultant  once  more,  proud  of  himself  as  a 
hero. 

"The  next  edition,  and  then  all  the  papers,"  he  thought, 
"will  print  my  name,  and  everybody  will  know  what  I 
have  done.  When  Strobel  is  released  there  will  be  plenty 
of  thinking  people  who  will  applaud  me  in  their  hearts, 
whatever  they  may  say  aloud." 

Believing  that  he  could  sleep  now  that  his  mind  was 
relieved  of  uncertainty,  he  went  down  into  the  men's  de- 
partment of  the  steerage  and  crawled  into  a  bunk  away 
forward.  A  great  many  passengers  were  booked  for  this 
trip,  and  a  compartment  never  used  except  in  the  event  of 
a  crowd  had  been  fitted  in  the  very  prow  of  the  ship.  Li- 
tizki knew  that  the  steward  would  not  assign  the  bunks 
there  until  none  were  left  elsewhere,  and  he  hoped,  there- 
fore, to  be  undisturbed  until  after  the  boat  had  started. 

So  he  lay  down  upon  the  toarse  mattress  and  tried  to 
sleep.  He  closed  his  eyes  only  to  view  again  the  scene  in 
the  drawing-room  car.  Physical  fatigue  caused  his  mind 


154  THE  GHOST  OF  POUBALOV. 

to  wander,  and  he  would  be  conscious  that  he  was  drop- 
ping  into  sleep  when  suddenly  his  nerves  would  seem  to 
be  on  fire  with  life,  and  he  would  start  violently  and  grip 
the  low  rail  of  his  bunk  as  if  he  were  about  to  fall  out.  By 
dint  of  will  power  he  compelled  himself  to  remain  there, 
although  as  the  time  passed  he  was  in  momentary  expecta- 
tion of  arrest.  He  began  to  regret  that  he  had  shown  him- 
self so  freely.  Once  the  steamer  was  under  way  he  would 
be  able  to  rest  undisturbed  by  phantasies  for  ten  days. 
After  that,  what  matter?  Those  ten  days  should  be  passed 
in  full  enjoyment  of  his  one  successful  act. 

As  the  forenoon  dragged  along  the  steerage  filled  with 
men,  and  there  was  a  constant  hum  of  voices,  and  the 
shuffling  of  feet  as  the  passengers  jostled  about  in  the 
narrow  quarters  and  stowed  their  baggage  on  and  under 
their  bunks.  Several  men  came  into  Litizki's  compart- 
ment and  took  possession  in  turn  of  the  unoccupied  places. 
Some  of  them  remained,  scraping  acquaintance  with  one 
another,  and  passing  about  the  liquor  without  copious 
draughts  of  which  few  ocean  travelers  regard  a  voyage  as 
properly  begun.  In  the  saloon,  champagne  serves  as  the 
exhilarant  for  a  scene  that  should  need  no  wine  to  set 
healthy  blood  to  sparkling ;  and  in  the  steerage,  the  whis- 
ky flask  accomplishes  its  purpose  just  as  effectively.  A 
fellow-passenger  offered  his  flask  to  Litizki.  He  was  no 
drinker,  and  he  accepted  the  friendly  offering  more  to  at- 
tract no  comment  to  himself  than  because  he  craved  a 
stimulant. 

Having  mumbled  "thanks,  friend"  and  drunk  as  much 
as  his  throat  would  tolerate  of  the  fiery  stuff,  he  lay  down 
again.  A  moment  or  two  later  he  was  surprised  to  find 
that  he  felt  more  composed,  distinctly  drowsy,  in  fact.  He 
correctly  attributed  this  to  the  whisky,  and  he  lay  very 
still  in  the  hope  that  natural  sleep  would  at  last  come 
upon  him.  This  might  have  been  the  case,  but  he  was 
aroused  by  a  rough  hand  on  his  foot. 

"Come  on  there,  my  man;  come  on,"  said  a  command- 
ing voice. 


THE  GHOST  OF  POUBALOV.  155 

"You  want  me,  then,  do  you?"  responded  Litizki,  sit- 
ting up  quickly  and  bumping  his  head  against  the  deck. 

"Save  the  ship,  man, "  remarked  the  voice,  jocosely, 
"and  it  will  be  better  for  your  head.  That  deck's  made  of 
iron.  Let  me  see  your  ticket." 

So  it  was  not  a  policeman.  Litizki  showed  his  ticket, 
and  the  purser's  assistant  passed  on.  It  must  be  ap- 
proaching the  hour  of  departure.  The  tailor,  fully  aroused, 
wished  that  his  neighbor  would  offer  him  more  liquor. 

"Do  you  think,"  he  asked,  "that  I  would  have  time  to 
go  ashore  and  get  a  bottle  of  whisky?" 

"Yes,"  was  the  facetious  reply,  "but  you  wouldn't  have 
time  to  get  back.  Never  mind,  partner.  Have  a  drop  of 
this,"  and  again  the  flask  was  passed  to  him. 

Litizki  did  not  lie  down  again  immediately  after  drink- 
ing. He  sat  crouched  over  with  his  hands  about  his  knees, 
wondering  if  Miss  Hilman  had  received  his  letter.  The 
men  in  his  compartment  were  chatting  and  laughing  nois- 
ily. The  single  port-hole  admitted  so  little  light  that  he 
could  not  have  distinguished  the  features  of  any  of  them 
except  by  the  closest  scrutiny.  The  steerage  steward 
looked  in. 

"There's  one  place  here,  sir,"  he  said,  "that  your  man 
can  have." 

"All  right,"  was  the  reply,  in  a  wheezy,  cracked 
voice;  "take  it,  Billings." 

The  tailor  started.  Was  not  that  the  name  of  the  man 
whom  Miss  Hilman  had  mentioned  as  the  driver  of  Stro- 
bel's  second  carriage?  Could  it  be  that  he  was  taking 
flight,  too?  or  was  it  a  mere  coincidence  of  names? 

A  young  fellow,  preceded  by  an  odor  of  strong  drink, 
and  followed  by  a  decrepit  old  man,  edged  into  the  com- 
partment. He  carried  a  black,  shiny  portmanteau  which 
he  threw  upon  the  vacant  bunk. 

"There!"  he  growled,  "that  was  heavy.  Give  me  an- 
other swig,  Mr.  Dexter." 

"You  shall  have  it,  my  bojT,  and  welcome,"  croaked  the 
old  man,  producing  a  flask  from  his  pocket;  "take  a  good, 


156  THE  GHOST  OF  POUBALOV. 

long  drink.     That's  it!  down  with   it,  he!  he!    Pleasant 
voyage  to  you,  Billings,  my  boy!" 

He  patted  the  young  fellow  on  the  shoulder ;  and  Bil- 
lings, supposing  that  his  hand  was  extended  to  take  the 
flask,  turned  his  back,  and  when  he  had  drunk,  corked 
the  flask  and  remarked  thickly: 

"I'll  keep  it  thish  time." 

"All  right,  all  right,"  responded  Dexter;  "you  may 
have  it  now.  I'm  going  on  deck.  It's  too  close  here." 

He  hobbled  away,  and  Billings  staggered  after  him. 

Full  of  wonder,  and  almost  forgetting  his  own  part  in 
the  Strobel  matter,  Litizki  descended  from  his  bunk  and 
went  up  to  the  deck  also.  To  his  amazement,  he  found 
that  the  Cephalonia  was  already  a  hundred  yards  from 
the  dock.  Several  conceited  little  tugs  were  puffing  away 
at  stem  and  stern,  to  turn  the  gigantic  ship  about.  A 
great  crowd  of  people  were  on  the  pier,  waving  hands  and 
handkerchiefs,  and  the  salutes  were  frantically  returned 
by  the  hundreds  on  board  who  crowded  close  to  the  rail. 

Billings  had  gone  to  the  rail  away  from  the  shore,  and 
Dexter  stood  beside  him,  still  talking  with  forced  jocular- 
ity, to  which  the  young  man  listened  with  only  half  com- 
pn  hension.  The  most  that  his  fuddled  brain  could  recog- 
nize was  that  he  was  on  board  a  steamer  bound  for  Ku 
rope,  a  big  enough  fact  in  itself  to  subdue  the  ordinary 
mind. 

Litizki  watched  the  pair  with  troubled  curiosity.  Could 
this  be  the  same  Billings?  and  could  his  going  away  por- 
tend any  failure  for  the  plan  that  Litizki  had  executed  at 
such  heroic  self-saorifice?  It  could  not  be  possible !  The 
guilty  driver  might  well  flee  from  punishment,  but 
neither  his  presence  nor  his  absence  could  materially  affect 
the  outcome. 

Thinking  thus,  the  tailor  allowed  his  eyes  to  wander 
from  Billings  and  Dexter,  taking  in  the  sights  of  the  ship 
with  indifferent  interest  Suddenly  he  retreated  a  pace, 
and  grasped  a  hatchway  to  prevent  himself  from  sinking 
prone  upon  the  deck.  Were  all  his  railings  against  super- 


THE  GHOST  OF  POUBALOV.  157 

stition  and  the  supernatural  but  empty  words?  Had  he 
gone  stark  rnad,  or  was  that  the  ghost  of  Poubalov  lean- 
ing negligently  over  the  rail  of  the  promenade  deck  and 
grinning  down  at  him  in  erident  amusement  at  his  con- 
sternation? 

A  long  cry  of  terror  seemed  to  struggle  for  utterance  in 
Litizki's  throat,  but  it  found  vent  in  a  pitiable  whine  that 
noobdy  heard  above  the  joyous  cheering  of  the  passen- 
gers except  his  frightened  self.  He  could  not  take  his  eyes 
from  that  awful  face,  whose  every  feature  seemed  to  glow 
with  perfect  health.  How  long  he  stood  there,  gasping, 
powerless  under  the  terrible  spell,  Litizki  could  not  have 
told,  but  a  complete  revulsion  of  feeling  overcame  him 
when  the  figure  on  the  deck  above  shrugged  its  shoulders, 
sneered,  and  strode  forward  out  of  sight. 

Then  Litizki  knew  that  he  had  failed. 

Where  now  was  all  the  exaltation  of  heroism  that  had 
sustained  him?  Where  his  devotion  to  Reason,  that  false 
goddess  whose  dictates  had  seemed  to  him  infallible? 
Even  in  his  agony  of  humiliation  the  light  broke  in  upon 
him,  and  he  saw  that  the  guiding  spirit  of  his  miserable 
career  had  not  been  abstract,  unimpeachable  Reason,  but  a 
base,  weak  imitation — the  lucubration  of  a  disordered  in- 
tellect, Litizki's  reason. 

The  unhappy  man  tried  to  think,  not  so  much  to  ex- 
plain how  it  had  happened  that  the  dagger  had  not  done 
its  work,  but  how  should  he  act  now?  There  was  no  with- 
drawal from  the  voyage  already  begun,  and  he  wished 
least  of  all  to  go  ashore.  Why  had  he  so  insanely  thrown 
away  his  revolver?  The  breast  that  had  resisted  a  knife 
clri  ven  by  his  feeble  arm  could  not  withstand  the  force  of 
a  well-directed  bullet. 

What  should  he  do?  Would  fate  be  once  more  kind,  just 
once  more,  and  some  time  during  the  coming  ten  days, 
put  Poubalov  in  his  way  so  that  he  could  push  the  villain 
overboard? 

Whisky  mounted  to  his  brain  and  told  him  to  hope. 
He  crawled  up  the  steps  to  the  forecastle-top  whence  he 


158  THE  GHOST  OF  POUBALOV. 

could  command  a  view  of  the  promenade  deck  throughout 
its  entire  length.  Poubalov  was  there,  idly  observing  tho 
passing  harbor.  He  hardly  stirred  until,  just  after  passing 
Boston  Light,  the  steamer's  engines  were  stopped,  and 
with  several  others,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  he  went  to  the 
main  deck.  A  tug  came  alongside,  the  visitors  and  the 
representatives  of  the  Cunard  Company  crossed  tho  plank, 
and  in  another  moment  the  great  vessel  throbbed  again 
with  the  revolutions  of  the  screw  that,  barring  acrid 
would  not  oease  its  work  until  it  had  propelled  the  steamer 
to  the  other  side  of  the  world. 

Poubalov  stood  in  front  of  the  wheol-houso  of  the  tug 
and  waved  his  hat  to  Litizki,  and  by  the  side  of  the  spy 
stood  the  decrepit  old  man,  Dexter. 


THE  LITTLE  FRONT  ROOM.  159 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    LITTLE    FRONT    ROOM. 

When  Poubalov  had  fallen  to  the  floor  of  the  car  and 
Clara  was  bending  over  him,  his  dark  eyes  shone  with  sav- 
age luster  as  he  said : 

"I  am  not  hurt,  Miss  Hilman,  but  I  would  I  were,  if  I 
could  thereby  gain  your  sympathy." 

"Not  hurt!"  she  repeated  aghast  at  the  spectacle  he 
presented,  and  unable  to  credit  his  words.  He  lay  flat  on 
his  back,  and  protruding  upward  from  his  closely-but- 
toned coat  was  the  dagger.  It  looked  as  if  half  the  length 
of  the  blade  had  been  buried  in  his  body. 

The  passengers  gathered  about,  horrified  and  excited, 
while  the  man  whom  they  supposed  to  be  dying,  sat  up  in 
the  aisle  and  deliberately  wrenched  the  blade  from  his 
bosom. 

"See,  "he  said  holding  it  aloft  where  nearly  everybody 
could  observe  it,  "the  point  is  badly  blunted,  and  I  shall 
have  to  grind  ifi  down,  but  there  is  no  blood  upon  it!" 

Then  he  laughed  quietly,  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  with 
strong  arms  helped  Clara  back  to  her  chair.  She  was  ter- 
ribly shocked  by  the  episode,  for  Litizki's  melancholy 
meditations  rushed  back  upon  her,  and  she  seemed  again 
to  hear  him  promising  yet  to  do  something  for  her  that 
should  be  of  great  service.  And  this  was  it! 

She  did  not  then  realize  that  it  was  a  remark  of  her  own 
that  had  inspired  his  mad  brain  to  action,  and  it  was  well 
that  she  did  not,  for  it  was  enough  that  she  should  suffer 
as  she  did,  accusing  herself  of  failing  to  foresee  what 
would  happen  if  the  little  tailor  were  permitted  to  go  on 
tormenting  himself  with  the  mystery,  and  indulging  his 
immeasurable  hatred  of  Poubalov.  How  could  she  have 


I 

160  THE  LITTLE  FRONT  ROOM. 

been  so  selfish,  she  thought,  as  to  encourage  the  unfortu- 
nate man  to  devote  his  life  to  her  purpose,  and   to  ar< 
such  devotion  that   he  was  carried  by  it  to   the  very  c 
mission  of  murder?   She  shuddered  as  the  word  occurred  to 
her,  and  the  looked  appealingly  at  Pouhalov,  as  if  to  s 
from  him  some  further  assurance  that  the  miracle  had 
curred  to  avert  the  tragedy  that  Litizki  had  planned. 

"It  is  absolutely  nothing,  Miss  Hilman,''  said     tin-  spy, 
interpreting  her  glance  correctly,  "save  a  hole  in    my  . 
and  the  probahle  perforation  of  some  interesting   doeu- 
ments.     I  will  show  you." 

Having  just   placed  her  in  the  chair,  he  was    bending 
over  her  as  he  spoke,  and  now  he  stood  erect,  and  win! 
the  pns>i  niters  looked  on  ama/ed,  ho  unbuttoned  his 
and   drew  from    the-   broast   pocket  alar  ;  In  r  wallet 

filled  with  papers. 

"I  wear  no  armor,"  ho  said,  smiling  as  he  laid  the   c 
ger  on  the  window  ledge,  that  he  might  use  both  hands  in 
>h<>\ving  how  ho  had  escaped.     One  side  of  the  wallet  had 
the  mark  of  the  knife,  a  gash  clean  cut  in  the.  L-ath 
denee  sullieient  that  the  blow  had  fallen  with  all  the  f 
that  Liti/ki  could  command.     Opening  tho  wallet,  In-  i 
out  several  folded  papers,  showing  without  revealing  their 
nature,  that  tho  blade  had  pierced  them.     At  last  he  drew 
forth  a  little  copper  plate,  and  held  it  up  to  the  light. 

14  Yes,"  he  said,  "that  finished  it.  Tho  wallet  itself  \ 
almost  sullirimit  to  save  me,  but  without  this  plate  I  think 
I  should  have  been  scratched  a  bit.  I  had  this  plate  (Mi- 
graved  a  short  time  ago  in  New  York,  as  I  wished  to  ] /re- 
sent my  card  with  my  name  printed  in  characters  that 
would  be  intelligible  to  English-speaking  people.  Tho  en- 
graver gave  mo  the  plate,  of  course,  when  he  delivered 
my  cards,  and  at  the  moment  I  put  it  here  for  conven- 
ience. I  had  forgotten  all  about  it.  You  see,"  handing  the 
plate  to  a  gentleman  who  stood  beside  him,  "my  friend 
managed  to  erase  my  name  but  he  left  me  my  life." 

"You  are  to  be  congratulated,"   exclaimed   the  gentle- 
man,  returning  the  plate  after  a  vain  attempt  to  decipher 


THE  LITTLE  FRONT  ROOM.  161 

the  name.  The  point  of  the  dagger  had  completely  obliter- 
ated several  letters  and  scratched  most  of  the  rest. 

Clara  sat  during  this  with  her  handkerchief  to  her  lips, 
trying  to  recover  her  mental  poise,  and  concentrating 
her  mind  on  the  fact  that  a  tragedy  had  not  taken  place. 
The  train  rolled  slowly  into  the  station,  and  the  passen- 
gers were  speedily  occupied  with  escaping  from  their  con- 
finement. One  officious  gentleman  remarked  to  Poubalov : 

"You  will,  of  course,  report  this  matter  to  the  police?  I 
shall  be  pleased  to  give  you  my  card  if  you  require  a  wit- 
ness, although  I  was  in  the  wash-room  at  the  time  you 
were  struck  down." 

"Thank  you,"  responded  Poubalov,  with  a  grave 
smile,  "I  shall  not  require  your  card,  as  I  have  no  com- 
plaint to  make." 

"What!"  blustered  the  passenger,  "you  won't  have  your 
assailant  arrested?  Such  a  man  ought  not  to  be  at  large." 

"The  railroad  officials  may  take  that  view  of  it  if  they 
choose, "  said  the  spy,  calmly;  "I  have  no  desire  in  the 
matter." 

Amazed  and  indignant,  the  officious  passenger  hunted 
up  an  official  of  the  company,  and  having  insisted  on  a 
thorough  investigation  of  the  attempted  murder,  went 
home  complacent  in  that  he  had  done  his  duty  as  a  citizen. 
The  train-men,  of  course,  reported  what  they  knew  of  the 
occurrence  to  their  chief,  but  the  assailant  had  leaped 
from  the  train,  the  name  of  the  victim  was  not  known, 
and  the  result  was  a  lame  account  of  the  episode  at  the 
nearest  police  station  late  in  the  evening.  The  police  had 
nothing  to  work  upon,  and,  therefore,  said  nothing  of  it  to 
the  reporters  when  they  made  their  regular  calls  at  the 
station ;  and  when  at  last,  very  late  at  night,  a  reporter  to 
whose  ears  an  exaggerated  rumor  had  come,  telephoned 
for  corroboration,  the  sergeant  in  charge  could  only  say 
that  something  of  the  kind  had  occurred ;  and  thus  it  came 
about  that  one  enterprising  newspaper  had  an  excusably 
imperfect  report  of  the  occurrence. 

Clara  would  have  left  the  train  without  Poubalov's  as- 


JfJ'J  THE  LITTLE  FRONT  ROOM. 

•,-ince,  but  he  took  her  arm  in  his,  caught  up  her  hard- 
liair,  and  helped  her  to  the  platform,  in  spitu  of  her 
Still  suffering  from  the  shock,  she  realized  by  the  close 
,  contact  with  him  how  masterful  was  his  influence,  and 
how  by  force  of  character  alone  he  must  accomplish  quite 
as  much  in  his  unattractive  employment  as  by  intrigue 
and  deceit. 

"I  thank  you/ '  she  said  faintly  when  she  stood  upon 
the  platform;  "I  can  go  alone  quite  well  now.     I  cannot 
tell  you  how  glad  I  am  that  you  escaped.     I  should   1 
felt  guilty  if  anything  serious  had  happened,  and  I  feel 
to  blame  for  what  has  occurred." 

"You  mustn't  borrow  trouble  that  way,  Miss  Ililman," 
responded,  gallantly;  "the  sanest  man  might  well  leap 
to  folly  if  he  imagined  that  you  wished  him  to." 

"It  pains  mo  to  have  you  make  light  of  it,"  said  Clara; 
"I  assure  you  that  I  have  quite  reco\ 

"Yon  win  permit  me  to  hand  yon  to  a  carriage,  M 
Hilman?    I  will  not  intrude  further,  believe  m> 

Sh<  nodded  assent,  and  they  were  about  to  proceed  along 
the  platform  when  Poubalov  stepped  squaroly  in  front  of 
her. 

"Pardon  me,"  he  said  earnestly,  "if  I  do  not  go  as  far 
oven  as  the  carriage.  I  have  not  jrot  had  opportunity  to 
say  what  I  called  to  tell  you  about  Wednesday  evening,  or 
to  explain  why  I  loft  your  house  so  abruptly  and  inform 
ally.  I  shall  call  to-morrow  to  complete  my  errand.  I  do 
not  ask  your  permission  to  call,  as  what  I  would  say  is  im- 
portant, and  you  will  want  to  hear  it.  This  way,  cabby! 
take  care  of  this  lady.  Till  to-morrow,  Mi-s  Hilmnn." 
He  had  moved  about  slightly  as  he  spoke  and  now  d;n 
away  with  quick  strides.  By  standing  in  front  of  her  and 
moving  as  he  did,  ho  had  completely  concealed  from  her 
view  the  driver,  Billings,  who  was  walking  rapidly  down 
the  platform  and  who  passed  close  by  them. 

Mystified  as  usual  by  his  strange  conduct,  but  relieved 
that  he  was  gone,  Clara  followed  the  cabman  and  in  duo 
time  arrived  safely  at  home.  She  went  to  bed  at  once,  tell 


THE  LITTLE  FRONT  EOOM.  163 

ing  her  cousin  enough  of  what  had  occuned  to  show  that 
she  had  endured  a  strain.  Louise  sat  in  her  room  until  late 
at  night,  but  Clara  slept  peacefully  to  all  appearances, 
and  seemed  to  require  no  watching.  In  the  early  morning 
Litizki's  letter  arrived,  and  a  servant  took  it  to  Clara's 
room.  She  read  it  before  dressing. 

While  it  recalled  the  shudders  with  which  she  had 
viewed  the  possibilities  of  Litizki's  crime,  and  made  her 
conscientious  soul  more  sensible  of  what  she  deemed  her 
responsibility  in  the  matter,  it  nevertheless  awakened 
hope  afresh  in  her  heart.  Litizki  was  so  positive  in  his  be- 
lief that  Ivan  was  confined  in  Poubalov's  lodging-house, 
that  she  was  well  nigh  convinced  by  his  assurances,  crazy 
though  his  brain  undoubtedly  was ;  but  there  were  Pouba- 
lov's own  utterances  on  that  night  when  the  little  tailor 
had  started  to  open  the  door  to  the  hall  room.  They  were 
not  direct,  but  was  ever  Poubalov  direct  save  when  tell- 
ing a  straightforward  lie?  He  had  prevented  Litizki  from 
opening  that  door,  and  were  not  his  ambiguous  words  sus- 
ceptible of  the  interpretation  that  Ivan  was,  as  Litizki 
had  said,  confined  there,  bound  and  gagged? 

She  read  and  reread  again  the  parts  of  the  letter  that 
had  reference  to  this  clew,  and  decided  that  it  would  be 
wrong  not  to  act  upon  Litizki's  suggestions.  She  was  re- 
solved that  nothing  she  would  do  should  be  calculated  to 
precipitate  another  tragedy,  but  rescue  her  lover  she 
must,  and  she  set  herself  to  thinking  how  it  oould  be  done. 

Wherj  she  was  dressed,  she  went  to  her  cousin's  room, 
and  Louise  was  surprised  to  be  awakened  by  Clara,  who 
looked  none  the  worse  for  her  extraordinary  adventures. 

"I'm  not  going  to  ask  you  how  you  are  this  morning," 
said  Louise,  with  mock  resentment;  "I  couldn't  look  as 
well  as  you  do  if  I  employed  a  trained  nurse  the  year 

round." 

"Perhaps  I  look  better  than  I  feel,  dear, "  responded 
Clara;  "but  I  confess  that,  in  spite  of  everything,  I  do 
feel  hopeful.  Here  is  a  sad  letter  from  poor  Litizki.  Read. 


164  THE  LITTLE  FlLOXT  ROOM. 

it,  and  tell  rue  if,  underneath  all  his  terrible  madness, 
there  is  not  some  ground  for  hope." 

Louise  read  with  awe-struck  attention,  and  laid  the  long 
letter  down  with  a  shudder  of  horror. 

"How  dreadful!"  she  exclaimed  under  her  breath,  "and 
yet  with  what  perfect  clearness  he  expresses  himself!  Xo 
rambling,  few  repetitions,  everything  directly  to  tlni  point 
as  he  sees  it." 

"That  is  the  way  it  impresses  me.  Litizki  was  not  all 
mad.  Would  it  not  be  madness  in  us  to  ignore  his  infor- 
mation?" 

"Indeed  it  would!  what  will  you  do?" 

"Do  you  know  Paul  Palovna's  address?" 

"No,  but  Ralph  would.'" 

"I  shall  write  a  note  to  Paul.  Got  right  up,  please,  and 
write  to  Ralph,  telling  him  to  see  that  my  note  reaches 
Paul  as  soon  as  possible.  Of  course,  we  cannot  follow  poor 
Litizki's  plan,  for  he  believed  that  he  had  killed  Pouba- 
lov.  How  he  must  suffer !  But  wo  can  investigate  his  the- 
ory, at  all  events,  in  our  own  way." 

The  letters  they  wrote  were  taken  to  Ralph  Harmon  by 
a  servant,  and  shortly  before  noon  Paul  appeared  at  Mr. 
Pembroke's  house,  in  answer  to  Clara's  summons.  Her 
uncle  had  returned  to  Boston  as  he  had  planned,  but  he 
had  sent  word  that  he  should  not  be  able  to  come  home 
until  some  time  in  the  evening.  So,  again,  Clara  was 
thrown  upon  her  own  resources  for  guidance  and  action. 

Clara  went  over  the  whole  situation  with  Paul,  who  ex- 
pressed his  regret  that  she  had  not  sooner  called  upon  him 
for  asssistance. 

"Not,"  he  said,  "that  I  could  have  done  anything  bet- 
ter than  you  have,  but  that  I  should  have  liked  to  help." 

"Events  have  happened  too  rapidly,"  she  replied,  "to 
make  it  possible  for  me  to  think  of  more  than  each  episode 
as  it  occurred.  I  don't  want  you  to  take  a  step  in  this  if  it 
is  to  be  at  the  cost  of  the  slightest  danger  to  yourself." 

"There  is  no  danger,"  said  Paul;  "I  do  not  underrate 
Poubalov's  capacity  for  evil,  but  he  has  no  reason  to  work 


THE  LITTLE  FRONT  ROOM.  165 

against  rue.  I  doubt  if  he  would  recognize  me,  though  he 
probably  knows  my  name  as  that  of  Strobel's  most  inti- 
mate friend.  As  I  understand  it,  you  wish  me  to  make  a 
thorough  investigation  of  Poubalov's  house." 

"Yes,  it  should  have  been  done  days  ago,  and  I  would 
have  seen  to  it  had  Litizki  told  me  of  his  experience 
there.1' 

"It  will  be  very  simple.  I  will  go  there  to  look  for 
rooms.  Even  if  he  should  be  there,  and  see  me,  he  cannot 
well  prevent  me  from  going  through  the  house.  I  will  re- 
port to  you  before  the  day  is  over." 

Clara  had  not  shown  Litizki's  letter  to  Paul,  but  she  told 
him  enough  about  it  and  its  contents  to  convince  him  that 
the  tailor  had  been  on  the  right  track.  He  was  in  feverish 
haste  to  get  downtown  and  effect  a  solution  of  the  mys- 
tery at  once,  and  he  more  than  half  believed  that  he 
should  succeed. 

His  hope  that  Poubalov  would  not  be  in  at  the  time  of 
his  call  was  realized,  of  course,  for  the  spy  was  at  that 
time  on  his  way  up  the  harbor  after  bidding  the  Cephalo- 
nia  bon  voyage.  A  scrubwoman  answered  his  ring  at  32 
Bulfinch  Place  and  left  him  standing  in  the  hall  while  she 
went  for  the  landlady. 

Paul  had  observed  that  tho  window  just  over  the  door 
was  concealed  by  the  blinds,  whereas  every  other  window 
on  the  front  of  the  house  was  fully  exposed. 

"I  have  several  rooms  vacant,"  said  the  landlady  as  she 
came  jingling  a  bunch  of  keys  from  a  back  room.  She  was 
a  stout,  good-humored-looking  woman  whose  pleasant 
face,  a  little  hardened  by  business  dealings,  perhaps,  did 
not  suggest  the  duplicity  that  would  be  essential  to  an  al- 
liance with  such  a  man  as  Poubalov.  "What  kind  of  a 
room  do  you  want?" 

Paul  thought  he  would  look  at  them  all. 
"I  don't  mind  the  price  so  much,"  he  said,  "as  the  way 
the  room  strikes  me." 

"Well,"  responded  the  landlady  with  a  sigh,  "if  you 


106  THE  LITTLE  FRONT  ROOM. 

want  a  five-dollar  room,  I'd  like  to  save  climbing  stairs  to 
show  those  at  two  dollars.     Come  on." 

"There's  a  room  for  five,"  she  said,  opening  the  door  of 
the  back  room  up  one  flight.  It  was  the  room  adjoinin.ir 
that  occupied  by  Poubalov.  "The  others  on  this  floor  an> 
occupied." 

"This  little  front  room,  too?"  asked  Paul,  his  hand  on 
the  door.  Ho  had  quietly  tried  it  and  found  it  locked  b»-. 
fore  she  answered  in  the  affirmative  and  started  up  tlio 
next  flight. 

They  looked  at  every  room  in  the  house  above  the  sec 
ond  floor.  Some  of  them  were  occupied,  but  the  landlady 
opened  the  doors  and  looked  in.  Paul  noticed  that  the  only 
locked  door  was  the  one  to  the  front  hall  room  next  to 
Poubalov's. 

" Well,"  said  the  landlady  at  last  as  they  stood  on  the 
landing  beside  Poubalov's  door,  "do  you  see  anything  you 
Jike?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Paul,  "I'll  take  this  back  room,"  and 
ho  took  a  five-dollar  bill  from  his  pocket  and  gave  it  to 
her.  Ho  said  ho  would  occupy  the  room  at  once,  and  tho 
landlady  gave  him  a  house  key. 

While  this  transaction  was  in  progress,  a  young  woman 
came  up  the  stairs,  humming  a  tune  with  that  noncha- 
lance that  indicates  familiarity  with  one's  surroundings, 
opened  the  door  of  the  little  front  room  with  a  key  she. 
took  from  her  purso,  and  went  in,  leaving  the  door  open 
until  she  had  thrown  back  the  blinds. 

"She's  been  with  me  a  year  and  a  half,"  remarked  the 
landlady,  complacently,  "and  I  don't  believe  you  could 
hire  her  to  occupy  any  other  room." 


WHAT  PA UL  PALOVNA  SA W.  167 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

WHAT    PAUL    PALOVNA    SAW. 

Paul  was  not  disheartened  by  his  discovery,  or  by  the 
landlady's  comment.  He  believed  that  she  was  telling  the 
truth,  and  that  th«  door  that  Litizki  supposed  to  commu- 
nicate with  the  little  front  room  really  opened  into  a  huge 
closet,  a  convenience  with  which  the  old-fashioned  house 
abounded.  He  had  paid  a  week's  rent,  and  he  determined 
to  get  some  good  out  of  it.  Accordingly,  he  returned  to 
his  regular  quarters,  and  packed  a  bag  with  personal  ef- 
fects, as  if  he  were  going  upon  a  journey.  This  he  took 
down  to  the  room  in  Bulfinch  Place.  He  saw  the  landlady 
again  as  he  entered. 

"By  the  way, "  he  said,  "is  there  any  communication 
between  my  room  and  the  one  in  front?" 

"No,"  she  replied;  "there's  a  door  there  that  was  put  in 
years  ago  when  a  family  occupied  the  whole  of  that  floor, 
but  it  is  nailed  up.  It  won't  open  from  either  side,  so  you 
needn't  be  afraid.  There's  a  very  quiet  gentleman  in  the 
front  room,  so  you  won't  be  disturbed." 

"All  right,  thanks, "  responded  Paul,  thinking  that  in 
due  time  he  might  make  good  use  of  the  landlady's  pro- 
clivity for  gossip.  He  went  to  his  room  and  studied  the 
disused  door  attentively.  There  was  a  keyhole,  but  it 
was  securely  plugged.  He  lay  upon  the  floor  and  peered 
under,  but  the  door  came  close  down  upon  the  threshold, 
and  nothing  was  to  be  seen. 

"It's  a  disagreeable  expedient,"  he  muttered,  "but  the 
end  justifies  the  means  in  this  case.  I  won't  say  anything 
to  Miss  Hilman  about  it,  though." 

He  opened  his  bag  and  took  out  a  gimlet  that  he  had 
bought  on  the  way  to  his  permanent  room.  Then  he  drew 


108  \Y11AT  PAUL  PALOVNA  SAW. 

a  chair  to  the  door,  stood  upon  it,  and  began  to  bore,  start- 
ing at  a  level  with  his  eyes,  and  slanting  slightly  down- 
ward.    His  notion  was  that  Poubalov  would  not  bo 
likely  to  observe  the  tiny  hole  if  it  were  a  foot  <>r 
above  his  head  as  if  it  were  lower.    For  the  same- 
he  bored  very  close  to  the  edge  of  a  panel,  and  he  t 
great  care  not  to  lot  the  gimlet  more  than  pierce  tbo 
further  side  of  the  wood.     It  would  never  do  to  let  any 
fresh  dust  show  on   the  carpet  in  Poubalov's  room. 

After  frequent  experiments,  to  observe  how  fur  ho  had 
penetrated,  he  found  that  he  could  faintly  discern  the 
li^ht  from  Pouablov's  windows  when  he  placed  his 
close  to  the  door  and  shaded  it  with  his  hands.  Then  he 
took  a  rusty  nail  that  he  pulled  from  the  wall  of  his 
closefc,  and,  working  it  patiently  with  his  fingers,  pusln-d  it 
through  the  partially-bored  hole  until  half  its  length  must 
have  protruded  into  tho  other  room.  A  little  more  efl'nrt 
and  he  could  put  the  nail  in  place  and  withdraw  it  with* 
out  the  slightest  noise.  Among  the  trifles  that  had  accu- 
mulated in  his  possessions  was  an  untrained  lithograph  rep- 
resenting cupids  throwing  flowers  as  big  as  the? 
at  one  another.  He  could  hardly  remember  how  he  caino 
tv)  have  it;  some  young  lady  sent  it  to  him,  probably,  as 
long  ago  as  last  Valentine's  Day;  but  there  it  was.  with  a 
neat  little  card  attached;  and  he  hung  it  on  the  nail  t 
cuse  hi*  operation  should  the  landlady  happen  to  notice 
it.  There  were  plenty  of  hooks  in  the  room,  but  lu-  would 
tell  her  that  it  was  his  fancy  to  embellish  tho  door. 

4 'There,  "he  thought,  as  he  contemplated  his  finished 
work,  "if  our  spy  is  not  more  observing  and  suspicions 
than  I  think  he  is,  I  shall  bo  able  to  take  a  look  at  him  oc- 
casionally." 

Having  carefully  cleaned  np  the  slight  litter  he  had 
made,  he  locked  the  door  of  his  room  and  went  to  make 
his  report  to  Clara. 

He  told  her  frankly  that  he  believed  Litizki  had  It- 
mistaken  about  the  little  front  room.  "But,"  he  added,  "I 
have  taken  the  back  room  for  a  week,  and  I  shall  be  sur 


WHA T  PAUL  PALO VNA  SA W.  169 

prised  if  I  do  not-  make  some  discovery  before  my  time  is 
up." 

Intent  upon  being  on  the  ground,  where  he  could  watch 
every  movement  of  Poubalov,  he  hurried  back  to  Bulfinch 
Place,  and  sat  himself  down  to  pass  time  with  books  un- 
til the  spy  should  come  in. 

All  day  long  Clara  heeded  her  uncle's  injunction  to  rest, 
but  that  was  because  there  was  nothing  she  could  do. 
Moreover,  she  expected  Poubalov,  and  she  was  more  than 
anxious  to  be  at  home  to  receive  him.  He  came  about  five 
o'clock.  The  young  ladies  were  refreshing  themselves 
with  tea,  and  Louise,  who  never  ceased  fco  be  amazed  at 
her  cousin's  proceedings,  almost  gasped  when  she  saw 
Clara  greet  him  cordially  and  hasten  to  get  a  cup  for  him. 

One  would  not  have  expected  Poubalov  to  show  fatigue, 
if  he  ever  felt  it,  but  if  he  were  not  weary  on  this  occa- 
sion, something  had  occurred  to  disturb  him.  His  eyes 
were  heavy,  his  accent  harder  to  understand  than  usual, 
and  it  was  not  until  several  minutes  had  passed,  and  he 
had  drank  freely  of  tea,  that  he  spoke  with  anything  like 
his  customary  masterful  confidence.  Clara  led  the  conversa- 
tion at  the  start.  After  the  first  greetings  she  referred  to 
the  episode  in  the  car,  saying : 

"I  should  have  thought  you  would  suffer  as  I  did  from 
the  shock  of  that  terrible  assault.  It  was  dreadful  to  look 
at,  and  how  much  more  dreadful  to  be  the  intended  vic- 
tim." 

"You  are  mistaken,  Miss  Hilman,"  responded  the  spy; 
"tlie  very  shock  of  the  blow  convinced  me  that  I  was  un- 
harmed. There  was  therefore  no  more  occasion  for  alarm 
on  my  part  than  as  if  a  book  had  fallen  from  the  rack 
upon  my  head." 

"But,  really,  I  supposed  the  worst  had  happened, "  in- 
sisted Clara,  "for  you  not  only  fell  but  you  gasped " 

"Naturally.  To  put  it  roughly,  the  fellow  knocked  the 
breath  out  of  me." 

"And  have  you  heard  nothing  of  Litizki?" 

Poubalov  looked  at  her  gravely  as  he  answered : 


170  I  I  HAT  PA  UL  PALO  VNA  SA  W. 

"I  have  seen  him." 

"Seen  him!"  echoed  both  his  listeners,  and  "whore?" 
asked  Clara. 

"He  was  not  under  arrest, "  answered  Poubalov;  "he 
was  free,  as  free  as  he  ever  will  be  with  the  memory  of 
the  recent  past  to  haunt  him,  as  it  certainly  will.  You 
will  never  see  him  again" — he  raised  his  hand  depre 
ingly ;  "pardon  me,  I  did  not  mean  to  suggest  the  slight- 
est discomfort.  He  has  not  committed  suicide,  and  I  do 
not  know  that  he  contemplates  it." 

He  turned  his  attention  to  his  tea,  and  both  young  la- 
(lit-s  wore  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  Louiso  found  an  ex- 
cuse for  withdrawing,  and  Clara  was  left  alone  with  the 
inscrutable  foe  to  her  happiness.  There  was  a  marked 
pause  after  Louise  had  gone,  Clara  waiting  for  Poubalov, 
and  the  spy — who  can  tell  what  was  coursing  through  his 
mind?  At  length  he  set  down  his  cup,  and  with  nn  at- 
tempt at  the  aggressive  self-possession  that  usually  char- 
acterized his  demeanor,  he  said : 

"I  owe  you  an  explanation,  Miss  Hilman." 

"Only  one?"  sho  asked  coldly,  but  there  was  a  strange 
smilo  on  her  face. 

"Many,"  responded  the  spy,  and  there  was  an  expres- 
sion on  his  features,  in  his  bearing,  in  the  tones  of  his 
voice,  that,  but  for  the  circumstances,  might  have  been 
litod  to  sincerity.  He  was  either  not  his  usual  self,  or 
he  was  playing  i\  much  deeper  game  than  any  he  had  y«-t 
revealed.  "Many,"  he  repeated,  "and  they  will  all  be 
inadn  in  dun  timo.  Do  you  see  that  I  honor  you  in  the 
hiL'lu'st  way  that  is  possible  for  me?  I  mean  by  not  treat- 
ing you  to  the  customary  forms  of  courtesy  which  are  the 
iMtiiv  or  less  transparent  garments  of  falsehood.  I  do  not 
come  here  with  a  plausible  story  to  account  for  my  con- 
duct, asking  you  to  accept  it  as  an  apology  whether  you 
b«-lieve  it,  or  not.  I  tell  you  the  truth,  so  far  as  I  speak  at 
all ;  and  when  the  nature  of  the  case  would  compel  me  to 
lie  if  I  opened  my  lips,  I  am  silent." 

"Or  you  evade  the  question,"   interposed   Clara,    and 


WHA  T  PA  UL  PAL 0  VNA  SA  W.  Ill 

again  she  smiled  provokingly,  but  there  was  no  invitation 
to  feel  at  ease  in  her  expression.  Poubalov  did  not  mis- 
interpret it,  and  it  almost  seemed  as  if  he,  the  master 
mind,  were  discomposed. 

"Perhaps  I  do,"  he  admitted  after  a  moment;  "my 
habits  of  speech  are  not  such  as  conduce  to  absolute  candor 
even  with  you,  whom  I  respect  too  highly  to  consciously 
deceive.  Tell  me,  Miss  Hilman,  will  you  not,  can  you  not 
believe  that  I  tell  you  the  truth?" 

"I  have  thought  about  it  a  great  deal,"  replied  Clara 
steadily,  "and  sometimes  I  almost  think  you  do;  but,  you 
know,  you  have  really  had  very  little  conversation  with 


me." 


"True  enough,  ard  I  must  confess  that  I  never  found 
it  so  hard  to  take  my  part  in  a  conversation  as  I  do  at 
this  minute.  I  usually  lead  it,  I  may  say  dominate  it," 
and  he  smiled  a  little  ;  "usually,  you  see,  I  make  people, 
men  and  women,  believe  me.  I  would  beg  you  to,  Miss 
Hilman,  if  only  I  knew  how." 

"Why  try  to  compel  me  to  stand  on  the  same  plane  as 
you  do?"  asked  Clara;  "you  confess  your  tabits  of  deceit. 
How  can  I  promise  to  believe  you  without  confessing  that, 
for  this  moment  at  least,  I  accept  your  own  style  of  inter- 
course?" 

"You  are  an  invincible  logician,  Miss  Hilman,"  ex- 
claimed Poubalov,  compressing  his  lips.  "I  give  up,  and 
will  let  my  words  stand  or  fall  on  their  merits,  according 
as  you  judge  them,  I  came  here  on  Wednesday  evening  to 
tell  you  some  things  I  had  discovered.  The  man  Billings 
called  before  I  had  begun  to  speak.  I  departed  unceremo- 
niously, because  I  did  not  wish  to  meet  him." 

"I  know  that,"  said  Clara,  simply.  "I  knew  it  at  the 
time." 

"Of  course  you  did, "  responded  Poubalov,  crestfallen; 
"you  could  not  infer  otherwise,  and  my  confession  has  all 
the  appearance,  therefore,  of  a  pitiably  weak  attempt  to 
bolster  up  my  claim  to  veracity." 

"I  do  not  interpret  it  that  way.  I  can  make  my  own  test 


172  II  HAT  PAUL  PALOVNA  SAW. 

of  your  veracity.     I  shall  listen  to  whatever  JTOU  have  to 
say,  without  reference  to  what  you  call  a  confession." 

"Well,  then,"  resumed  tho  spy,  speaking  rapidly,  "thia 
.  is  what  I  came  to  sajr.  I  had  made  investigations  in  my 
own  way  along  the  lines  of  the  theory  laid  down  with  re* 
spect  to  the  possible  operations  of  Nihilists  against  Mr. 
Strobel.  I  caught  Litizki  shadowing  me,  and  recognized 
him  as  one  with  whom  I  had  come  in  official  contact  ?n 
Kussia.  It  seemed  to  me  child's  play  to  deal  with  him, 
for  I  had  no  respect  for  his  intellect.  I  supposed  at  fir>t 
that  he  was  tracking  me  as  the  agent  of  a  Nihilistic  soci- 
ety. Then  I  learned  that  he  was  devoted  to  Strobel.  I 
knew  he  would  come  to  see  me,  but  not  openly.  So  I  sat 
np  for  him,  and  lie  crept  into  the  house  like  a  thief.  Wo 
had  a  conversation  that  I  will  not  pause  to  detail.  I  did  my 
best  to  impress  him  with  my  power,  and  then  let  him  go 
away,  for  I  wanted  him  to  be  at  large,  and  I  did  not  want 
him  just  then  to  report  to  you  what  I  had  told  him.  You 
see,  I  purposely  allowed  him  to  nurse  his  suspicions  of 
me.  Next  day  I  called  at  his  shop,  my  solo  purpose  being 
to  learn  who  his  associates  were,  and  to  endeavor  to  fa 
upon  them  the  taking  off  of  Strobel.  Among  the  men  in 
his  shop  was  one  Boris  Vargovitch,  at  one  time  somewhat 
of  a  leader  among  the  Nihilists.  The  rest  that  I  was  going 
1"  say  on  that  evening  I  do  not  need  to  say  now,  for  I  have 
since  become  convinced  that  Litizki  was  acting  irrespon- 
sibly in  pursuing  me,  and  that  if  Nihilists  were  active,  he 
was  not  in  thoir  confidence.  Furthermore,  I  am  now  con- 
vinced that  neither  Vargovitch  nor  any  other  former  Ni- 
hilist in  Boston  was  concerned  in  the  Strobel  matter.  I 
was  mistaken  in  supposing  that  the  Nihilists  continued 
their  close  organization  in  this  country.  They  may  send 
revolutionary  literature  to  Russia,  but  they  do  not  keep 
up  active  operations  here.  I  withdraw  my  innuendoes 
against  them,  therefore,  and  have  to  confess  that  you  are 
now  just  as  far  along  in  your  painful  search  as  you  were 
five  days  ago." 

Clara  was  deeply  impressed  by  this  narration.  She  could 


WHAT  PAUL  PALOVNA  SAW.  173 

see  no  flaw  in  it,  no  evidence  of  untruthfnlness.  But  there 
was  a  touch  of  evasion  in  the  conclusion,  and  she  re- 
marked with  merciless  coolness: 

"You  do  not  say  that  we  are  as  far  along  as  five  days 
ago.  You  confine  the  lack  of  progress  to  me." 

There  was  a  hasty  glance  from  the  spy  that  looked  like 
apprehension. 

"Of  course,  I  catch  the  significance  of  your  words,"  he 
said;  "you  think  I  know  more  than  I  tell,  that  I  insti- 
gated the  abduction  of  Strobel. " 

"Tell  me,"  she  said,  looking  straight  into  his  eyes, 
"why  did  you  not  wish  to  meet  Billings?" 

He  hesitated,  and  the  color  rose  slowly  to  his  cheeks. 

"No,"  he  answered,  "not  now.  I  have  said  all  I  can  for 
the  present.  I  am  still  pursuing  this  matter,  Miss  Hilman, 
but  I  must  put  off  further  information.  I  would  ask  you 
to  trust  me  to  report  faithfully  to  you  but  that  it  is  such  a 
farce  for  two  persons  like  you  and  me  to  bandy  words." 

"It  is  a  cruel  farce,"  she  exclaimed,  rising  indignantly; 
"you  pretend  to  help  me  and  you  laboriously  tell  me 
things  I  already  know." 

She  walked  across  the  room,  and  her  brain  struggled  for 
a  plan  in  the  confusion  of  impulses,  hopes  and  fears.  What 
might  Paul  accomplish?  Would  she  not  surely  lose  a  pos- 
sible point  by  dismissing  the  spy  once  and  for  all,  and 
might  she  not  some  day  gain  much  by  keeping  in  some  sort 
of  communication  with  him?  This  was  the  policy  she  had 
determined  upon,  and  she  would  adhere  to  it.  So  she 
turned  and  faced  him.  He  had  risen,  waiting  her  word  of 
dismissal  or  encouragement. 

"I  will  give  you  one  more  opportunity  to  tell  me  the 
whole  truth  and  make  amends,"  she  said  sternly;  "1  be- 
lieve what  you  have  told  me  to-night.  Next  time  I  must 
have  all,  and  nothing  short  of  it.  Will  you  come  to-mor- 
row?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Hilman,  in  the  evening." 

He  bowed  gravely  and  left  the  house. 

Paul  did  not  venture  to  go  to  dinner  when    evening 


174  WHAT  PA UL  PALO  VNA  SA  W. 

came.  He  read  on  and  on,  waiting  to  hear  Pouablov  outer 
the  adjoining  room.  It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  at 
last  he  heard  the  door  open  and  close,  and  he  knew  that 
the  spy  was  at  home. 

Then  Paul  laid  down  his  book  and  stepped  cautiously 
upon  the  chair  by  the  door.  He  carefully  drew  out  the 
nail  and  applied  his  eye  to  the  hole.  He  commanded  a 
view  of  the  verjr  center  of  Poubalov's  room. 

The  spy-had  thrown  himself  into  a  chair,  and  was  sit- 
ting as  if  deeply  wrapped  in  thought.  There  were  wrinkles 
in  his  brow  and  his  lips  were  set  close  together. 

After  a  few  moments  thus,  he  took  his  traveling  bag 
from  the  bureau  and  unlocked  it.  Having  fumbled  over 
the  contents,  he  drew  forth  a  cabinet  photograph  that  he 
took  directly  under  the  chandelier  whore  the  light  was 
strongest.  His  back  was  partially  turned  to  Paul,  and  he 
held  the  card  so  that  the  observer  at  the  nail  hole  could 
see  it  distinctly. 

With  a  shock  of  surprise  Paul  recognized  it  as  a  picture 
of  Clara  Hilman. 

Poubalov  gazed  long  and  earnestly  at  it  and  then 
touched  it  reverently  to  his  lips. 


POUBALOV'S  REVOLUTION.  175 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

POUBALOV'S  REVOLUTION. 

Paul's  heart  seemed  to  stand  still  as  he  reflected  on  Pou. 
balov'sact.  The  original  purpose  of  the  spy  in  calling  upon 
Strobel  and  instigating  his  abduction,  was  as  much  a  mys- 
tery as  ever,  but  it  was  one  that  could  be  explained  on  the 
ground  of  Poubalov's  confessed  relations  with  the  gov- 
ernment with  which  Strobel  had  been  in  conflict.  There 
was  nothing  personal  in  that ;  but  here  was  an  element  of 
personal  relationship  that  might  lead  to  worse  than  com- 
plications. 

Poubalov  in  love — no !  not  that  sacred  word ;  infatuated, 
rather,  with  Clara  Hilman. 

What  hope  could  there  now  be  that  the  spy,  having 
some  day  accomplished  the  purpose  for  which  he  had 
crossed  the  ocean  to  find  Strobel,  would  set  him  free?  In 
the  very  hopelessness  of  his  passion  would  he  not  first 
murder  Strobel,  and  then  Clara  herself?  Paul  felt  sick 
with  horror  as  the  possibility  of  these  tragedies  occurred 
to  his  mind.  They  were  more  than  possible.  With  Pouba- 
lov's character  in  view,  they  seemed  like  certainties. 
What  could  be  done  to  avert  them?  What  would  Clara 
say?  How  revolting,  more  than  terrifying,  would  be  the 
revelation  that  this  subtle,  conscienceless  foe  had  dared  to 
love  her! 

At  first  blush  Paul  felt  that  he  could  not  tell  Clara  what 
he  had  seen.  If  there  were  only  something  that  he  himself 
could  do  to  solve  the  mystery  of  Ivan's  disappearance,  for 
only  Strobel's  presence  in  perfect  health  could  serve  to 
check  the  spy's  villainous  course.  He  held  absolute  com- 
mand of  the  situation  as  long  as  he  succeeded  in  keeping 
Strobel  in  hiding.  As  the  sense  of  his  helplessness  grew 


176  POUBALOrS  BEVOLUTION. 

upon  him,  like  an   insidious  vine  whose   twining   tendrils 
choke  the  growth  of  a   sapling,  Paul  wondered   that   ; 
Litizki's  devotion  had  not  the  sooner  driven  him   to   i 
ness. 

He  saw  that,  with  all   its  evils,  the  situation   must   be 
made  clear  to  Clara.     He  would  continue  his  observat 
during  the  next  forenoon,  and  then  report  to  her. 

Poubalov  had  said  that  he -would  call   in   the  eveni: 
Clara,  therefore,  in  the  early  afternoon  wont  to  see  Mrs. 
White.  She  went  with  no  purpose  of  accomplishing  any- 
thing in  the  mystery,  but  rather  as  an  act  of   kind? 
report  how  she  had  found  Lizzie;  but  as  she  was  about   to 
turn   into  Ashburton   Place,  she  saw  Paul  at  the  foot  of 
the  hill  and  she  waited  for  him  to  come  up.     He  had  just 
started  for  Roxbury. 

"I  have  something  to  tell,  "he  said  in  answer  to  her 
anxious  look  of  inquiry,  "but  I  fear  it  is  nothing  that  will 
be  helpful,  and  it  will  certainly  be  disagreeable." 

"I  was  going  to  call  on  Mrs.  White/' responded  Clara; 
"suppose  you  go  with  me;  but  you  can  toll  mo  what  you 
have  discovered  before  we  go  in." 

"If  you  think  best,"  and  Paul  hesitai.  «1. 

"1  do.  Have  no  fear  of  me.  Have  I  not  learned  to  endure 
anything  that  can  happen?" 

"Poubalov  loves  you,  Miss  Hilman." 

Clara  blushed  vory  faintly,  looked  straight  into  Paul's 
eyes  for  an  instant,  then  off  at  the  house-tops,  and  an- 
B  wared: 

"I  felt  it.   How  aid  you  find  out?" 

Amazed  and  relieved,  Paul  told  her. 

"I  have  made  myself  a  spy,"  he  concluded,  "but  I  felt 
that  the  circumstances  justified  me." 

"So  1  think,  too,"  rejoined  Clara.  "Well,  let  us  go  on.  I 
don't  know  at  this  moment  how  to  act,  but  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  this  will  bring  matters  to  a  crisis,  and  I 
hope,  in  spite  of  reason  and  fears,  that  it  will  end  hap- 
pily. I  wonder  where  Poubalov  got  my  photograph." 

Then  she  remembnvtl  that  when  the  reporter,   Shaugh- 


POUBALOV'S  REVOLUTION.  177 

nessey,  had  returned  her  photograph,  it  had  been  placed 
for  the  moment  upon  the  mantel  in  the  drawing-room. 
The  next  day  she  had  looked  for  it,  and,  not  finding  it  at 
once,  had  supposed  that  Louise  or  a  servant  had  put  it 
away.  In  the  stress  of  events  she  had  thought  no  more 
about  it;  but  Poubalov's  call  and  bareheaded  flight  had 
occurred  after  the  return  of  the  photograph,  and  the  natu- 
ral, and  satisfactory  explanation,  therefore,  was  that  he 
had  stolen  it. 

"There  is  one  more  thing, "  added  Paul  as  they  walked 
along,  "and  I  suppose  it  shows  that  in  order  to  circumvent 
this  man  one  must  have  sleepless  eyes  and  untiring  vigi- 
lance. As  soon  as  Poubalov  went  to  bed  last  night,  I  hur- 
ried out  and  got  supper.  It  didn't  take  me  long,  for  I  was 
anxious  to  get  to  sleep,  so  that  I  might  get  up  early 
enough  this  morning  to  keep  track  of  him.  I  rose  before 
six,  and  took  a  preliminary  peep  through  my  nail  hole. 
Poubalov  had  gone,  and  up  to  just  now,  when  I  left,  had 
not  returned." 

"I  think  there  is  nothing  lost,"  said  Clara;  "he  is  to  call 
on  me  this  evening,  and  your  discovery  makes  it  certain 
that  he  will  come.  If  you  will  come  out  to  the  house  ahead 
of  him,  I  should  like  it  ever  so  much  if  you  would  follow 
him  when  he  goes  away." 

They  were  at  Mrs.  White's  door,  and  Paul  preferred 
not  to  go  in.  There  was  nothing  more  to  be  said,  and  it 
seemed  better  that  he  should  return  to  Bulfinch  Place,  to 
observe  Poubalov's  doings,  should  he  return. 

Mrs.  White,  comparatively  free  from  anxiety  about  her 
daughter,  seemed  more  than  desirous  of  talking  about 
Mr.  Strobel. 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  Lizzie  last  night,"  she  said,  "and 
she  told  me  how  kind  you  were.  I'm  real  glad  you  went 
to  see  her.  'cause  it  must  make  you  feel  so  much  more  sat- 
isfied to  know  that  Mr.  Strobel  did  not  run  away  with  her.' 
And  you  know,  Miss  Hilman,  I  can't  quite  think  that  the 
dark  gentleman,  Mr.  Pou —  something,  has  anything  to 
do  with  it.  He  seems  such  a  perfect  gentleman." 


178  POUBALOVS  REVOLUTION. 

"It  is  very  hard  to  understand  it  all,"  responded  Clara; 
"but  what  makes  you  think  Poubalov  is  better  than  we 
have  thought  him?" 

"Two  or  three  things.  Lizzie  wrote  mo  that  he  called  to 
see  her  just  after  you  had  gone  away,  and  she  says  he 
seemed  real  earnest  about  trying  to  find  Mr.  Strobel,  and 
was  just  as  polite  as  could  be." 

"Doesn't  she  say  anything  more  about  his  call  than 
that?" 

"No,  except  that  he  spoke  very  kindly,  and  didn't  let 
her  think  that  he  had  suspected  her  of  anything  wrong." 

"I  should  say  not, "  remarked  Clara,  rather  bitterly; 
"no  one  would  know  better  than  he  that  Lizzie  was  not 
concerned  in  the  affair." 

"I  don't  see  why,  Miss  Hilman.  Why  shouldn't  he  think 
what  other  people  thought?  I'm  afraid  he  did,  for  last 
Thursday  evening  he  called  here,  and  we  had  a  real  good 
talk  about  it.  He  seemed " 

"Did  you  tell  him  I  had  gone  to  New  York?"  inter- 
rupted Clara,  sharply,  for  she  was  impatient  with  these 
ingenuous  statements  of  what  Poubalov  seemed  to  be. 

"Land  sakes,  no!"  replied  Mrs.  White,  "but  he  told  me 
he  was  going  on,  and  when  he  suggested  so  kindly  that  he 
would  look  up  Lizzie,  and  let  me  know  how  she  was  situ- 
ated, I  was  glad  to  give  him  her  address.  He  hasn't  been 
here  since,  though.  Perhaps  he  hasn't  got  back  yet." 

Clara  wondered  wearily  how  stupidity  should  manage  to 
flourish  in  a  world  where  people  have  to  struggle  so  hard 
against  one  another,  and  then  she  immediately  reproached 
herself  for  the  thought,  recalling  what  a  taxing  puzzle 
Poubalov's  character  presented  to  herself.  She  made  no 
effort  to  undeceive  Mrs.  White — how  could  she  with  so 
little  as  she  herself  actually  knew? — but  rather  turned  the 
conversation  into  simple  channels  until  she  took  her  de- 
parture. 

Paul  arrived  at  Mr.  Pembroke's  about  six  o'clock,  re- 
porting that  Poubalov  had  been  absent  all  day  until  late 


POUBALOV'S  REVOLUTION.  179 

in  the  afternoon,  and  that  when  he  came  in   he  immedi- 
ately began  preparations  for  going  out  again. 

"I  came  along  at  once,"  said  Paul,  '"'lest  he  should  get 
here  ahead  of  me." 

Clara  asked  her  uncle  if  he  would  like  to  meet  the  spy. 

"No,  '  he  answered  uneasily;  "what  good  purpose 
would  it  serve?'* 

f'I.  thought  that  perhaps  you  might  read  him  better 
than  I  can,"  said  Clara;  "I  don't  see  how  we  can  help 
coming  to  a  crisis  this  evening,  and  if  you  could  help, 
we  might  bring  about  the  release  of  Ivan  all  the  sooner." 

Mr.  Pembroke  was  careworn,  and  all  his  utterances  and 
actions  had  been  marked  by  indecision  since  his  return 
from  New  York. 

"I  am  afraid  I  can  do  no  good,"  he  said  with  a  sigh; 
"handle  the  situation  as  best  you  can,  Clara.  I  believe 
you  will  find  your  happiness  restored  to  you  shortly." 

With  that  he  shut  himself  in  his  library,  and  they  saw 
no  more  of  him  that  night. 

Poubalov  acted  more  like  himself  than  he  did  the  day 
before,  but  it  was  apparent  to  Clara  that  his  confident 
self-possession  was  maintained  by  an  effort. 

"Must  we  begin  where  we  left  off  yesterday?''  he  said 
by  way  of  introduction. 

"You  may  begin  where  you  please, '  responded  Clara, 
"but  you  must  tell  me  the  truth.  I  think  you  are  going 
to  GO  so,  Mr.  Poubalov." 

"I  cannot  remember  that  I  have  told  you  a  single  lie 
since  I  met  you,  Miss  Hilman.  It  must  be  a  strange  admis- 
sion for  you  to  hear  me  make,  that  I  am  not  certain  when 
I  have  spoken  truly  and  when  falsely ;  but  that  is  the 
fault  of  the  peculiar  work  that  my  emperor  has  set  me  to 
do,  and  it  is  not  due  in  the  present  instance  to  any  pur- 
pose of  deceiving  you.  I  am  going  to  begin  by  telling  you 
of  a  discovery  that  I  have  made  since  I  began  to  work  on 
this  case — a  discovery  that  to  me,  at  least,  is  startling. 

"My  experience  throughout  all  my  life  has  been  such  as 
to  make  me  believe  that  honesty  and  sincerity  did  not  ex- 


ISO  POUBALO P ,S  l: /•: YOU  'TION. 

1st  save  in  the  characters  of  simple-minded  people  whom 
it  would    be    too  harsh  to  call  fools,   and  yet   who  are 
nothing  short  of  fools  when  you  look  at  thorn   from   the 
point  of  view  of  self-interest  and  material  advances 
What  have  I  found  to  be  the  chief  requisite  of  leaders 
whether  in  guiding  the  state,  or  seeking  to  wreck  it,  or  in 
commerce?    Cr^ft,  Miss  Hilman,  craft  that  and 

includes  indirect  methods  to  attain  ends,  the  holding   out 
of  false  hopes,  the  display  of  the  gilded  side  of  things,  the 
concealment    of  the    base  material — in  short,    trickery, 
which  is  but  another  name  for  treachery.     I  have  believed 
that  keen  minds  saw  the  folly  of  what  we  call  horn 
and  to  find  candor  in  a  person  of  intelligence  would   have 
seemed  to  me  an  anomaly.     I  have  discovered  that  extra- 
ordinary combination,  Miss  Hilman,  and  have  1 
fled  to  find  that  my  methods,  however  subtle,  have  availed 
nothing  in  opposition  to  this  unaffected,  unconscious  hon- 
esty.   It  is  a  revelation  to  my  mind  that  threatens  to  el: 
a  revolution  in  my  convictions." 

"One  moment,  Mr.  Poubalov,"  interrupted  Clara ;  "your 
habit  of  circuitous  approach  to  a  point  is  still  strong  a] 
you,  and  according  to  your  own   admissions,  it   is  out  of 
place  in  conversation  with  me.     Permit  me,  then,  to  help 
you  adjust  yourself  to  your  incomplete  revolution,  and  I 
will  do  so  without  any  clever  turns  of  phraseology.    I  am, 
then,  tho   embodiment  of  this  wonderful  candor  that 
liavu  discovered.     It  would  have  taken  you  a  long  tin. 
say  it.     I  appreciate  the  compliment.    Go  on,  plea 

There  was  a  suspicion  of  a  tremor  in  Poubalov's  voice 
as  he  continued: 

11  Yes,  you  have  said  it,  beating  me,  as  usual,  in  the  one 
part  wherein  I  thought  I  was  skilled.  But  I  have  to  add, 
.Miss  Hilman,  that  having  discovered  the  existence  of  hon- 
esty associated  with  the  highest  order  of  intelligence,  I 
am  astounded  to  find  that  I  not  only  do  not  scorn  and  de- 
spise it,  I  admire  it — more  than  that,  I  am  conquered  by 
it;  I  3rield  to  it  as  a  serf  to  the  will  of  his  master,  and  I 


POUBALOV'S  REVOLUTION.  181 

worship  her  who — "  his  voice  railed  him  for  an  instant 
and  then  he  concluded,  "you,  Miss  Hilnian." 

Clara  sat  looking  calmly  at  the  spy,  much  as  if  she  were 
regarding  a  play  in  which  he  was  an  actor,  or,  as  it  seemed 
to  him,  as  if  she  were  studying  a  strange  anatomical  spec- 
imen. 

"This  must  be  a  remarkable  experience  for  you, "  she 
said  simply. 

"It  is  a  marvel!"  he  responded  with  great  emphasis; 
"I,  who  knew  only  loyalty  to  my  czar,  find  that  there  is 
something  more  potent  to  stir  me  than  his  beck,  or  his  re- 
ward. 1  love,  and  with  all  the  strength  of  my  being!" 

"It  doesn't  seem  at  all  strange  to  me,1'  she  murmured^ 
her  voice  low  and  musical;  "I  have  never  rated  you  as 
less  than  a  human  being,  though  at  times  you  have  seemed 
to  fall  infinitely  below  the  standard  of  such  men  as  it  has 
been  my  good  fortune  to  know." 

Poubalov  winced  at  this  merciless  thrust  at  his  intense 
egotism,  and  Clara  went  on : 

"What  I  do  not  understand  is  why  you  should  have  been 
to  the  mortifying  pains  of  telling  me  about  it,  for  it  is  a 
farce  for  such  persons  as  you  and  me  to  bandy  words.  Has 
your  revolution  so  far  progressed  as  to  convince  you  that 
it  is  worth  while  to  waste  energy?' 

"A  man  must  speak  out  when  he  loves  as  I  do,"  said 
Poubalov,  desperately.  "I  will  not  rave,  as  I  have  read 
that  lovers  do;  I  will  stick  to  my  logic;  but  1  must  con- 
fess that  when  I  awakened  to  this  emotion,  I  could  not 
help  a  day  dream  in  which  I  saw  you  by  my  side,  and  the 
sight  was  sweet,  it  was  inspiring,  for  it  cannot  be  often 
that  minds  of  such  caliber  as  ours  are  brought  together 
and  united  for  life." 

"It  will  be  better  to  return  to  your  logic,  Mr.  Pouba- 
lov,"  said  Clara,  gently ;  his  tones  were  passionate  in  spite 
of  his  evident  effort,  and  she  had  no  desire  to  lead  him 
on  to  a  freer  outburst.  "Let  us  dismiss  this  experience  of 
yours,  in  which,  of  course,  I  share  only  as  a  disinterested 
spectator.  What  have  you  done  with  the  man  I  do  love?" 


182  PO  UBALO  V'S  R  E  VOL  UTION. 

Poubalov  rose,  and  Clara  expected  to  see  him  pace  up 
and  down  the  room  after  the  manner  of  her  undo  wh«-n 
he  was  agitated;  but  the  spy  stood  before  her  trembling 
in  every  limb. 

"You  have  asked  me  the  wrong  question,  Miss  Hil- 
man,"  he  said  hoarsely,  "and  I  shall  not  answer  it." 

"Then,"  exclaimed  Clara,  "either  leave  me  at  once,  or 
proceed  in  your  own  way  to  tell  me  what  I  wish  to  know. 
I  have  been  days  in  my  search,  and  I  can  listen  to  you 
for  the  whole  of  this  evening  if  it  is  necessary  in  order  to 
learn  what  I  must  know." 

"Suppose  I  should  tell  you,"  said  Poubalov,  slowly, 
"that  I  can  lay  my  hands  upon  Strobel  at  any  moment. 
What  would  you  say?" 

"I  should  bid  you  to  bring  him  to  me.1' 

Poubalov  shook  his  head. 

"I  should  not  do  it,"  he  said. 


AT  ONE  O'CLOCK  A.  M.  183 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
i 

AT     ONE     O'CLOCK     A.  M. 

Clara  rose  at  this  and  faced  her  adversary,  speaking 
with  intensitjr  no  less  than  his: 

"It  discredits  your  boasted  intelligence,"  she  said,  "to 
presume  so  much  as  to  suggest  a  compromise  to  me.  There 
can  be  no  middle  course.  You  do  not  care  that  I  consider 
you  an  unspeakable  villain,  but  you  must  see  that  you  are 
bound  to  do  one  thing  or  the  other.  Bring  my  lover  to 
me,  or — it  would  be  idle  boasting  fco  say  what  the  alterna- 
tive would  be,  but  you  know  that  I  should  never  cease  to 
pursue  you.  In  my  own  way  I  should  certainly  circum- 
vent you  some  day." 

"Yes,  you  would,  I  believe  that;  but,  Miss  Hilman,  I 
decline  to  accept  your  first  alternative, ' '  and  he  strode 
toward  the  door. 

"Stop!"  she  cried,  running  forward  and  getting  in  his 
way.  "I  told  you  this  would  be  your  last  opportunity  to 
tell  me  the  whole  truth.  You  haven't  told  me  anything 
yet  that  I  want  to  know.  I  meant  what  I  said.  I  will  not 
have  you  come  here  again." 

"Nevertheless,  we  shall  meet  again,  Miss  Hilman." 

Poubalov  now  appeared  imperturbable.  He  had  con- 
fessed to  a  certain  weakness  and  defeat ;  in  the  presence  of 
excitement  and  insistence  he  was  easily  the  master  of 
himself  and  the  situation. 

Clara  realized  quickly  that  she  had  lost  a  point  by 
yielding  even  momentarily  to  her  emotions,  and  she 
strove  to  recover  by  assuming  once  more  what  Poubalov 
called  her  logical  position. 

"You  have  said  that  you  love  me,"  she  said  as  calmly  as 
possible;  "can  you  ask  me  to  believe  that  when  you  delib- 


AT  ONE  O'CLOCK  A.  M. 

erately  cause  me  the  most  cruel  grief?    Is  that  con- 
With  all  your  confessed  craft,  you  have  a  certain  half -re- 
spectable consistency,  for  you  confess  to  me  at  least,  Imw 
base  you  are.    Will  you,  then,  love  and  torture  me,  to 

The  spy  became  deathly  pale  for  an  instant,  and  then 
answered : 

44 We  shall  see.  I  have  made  my  confession,  and  nothing 
now  shall  swerve  me  from  accomplishing  my  purpose  in 
my  own  way." 

"Is  there  such  a  thing  as  love  of  fair  play  in  you?" 
asked  Clara,  her  emotions  now  quelled  and  every  instinct 
alive  once  more  to  fencing  with  her  adversary. 

"I  supposn  not,  except  in  an  argument.  Even  then  it 
might  not  seem  to  be  fair  play  to  the  party  who  found 
himself  overmatched." 

"In  your  arguments  with  me  you  do  not  treat  me  with 
the  ordinary  fairness  of  admitting  me  to  a  common 
ground  with  you.  You  withhold  facts  without  which  I 
cannot  argue  as  well  as  I  might." 

"That,  Miss  Hilman,  is  because  our  contest  is  over  a  KM! 
issue,  not  over  an  abstraction." 

"I  don't  wonder  that  poor  Litizki  regarded  you  as  a 
fiend!" 

"Therein  you  manifest  yourself  a  woman.  You  long  f<>r 
invi-ctive,  but  your  refinement  cannot  teach  you  how  to 
use  epithets  effectively." 

"This  is  the  end  of  talking,"  said  Clara,  moving  aw 
"I  will  not  detain  you." 

Poubalov  promptly  bowed  ceremoniously,  bade  her 
good-evening,  and  left  the  house. 

Paul  slipped  out  After  him,  and  tried  his  ability  at 
playing  "shadow." 

Clara  was  greatly  disturbed  by  her  interview  with  Pon- 
balov,  athough  it  had  added  nothing  to  her  knowledge  of 
the  circumstances  with  which  she  was  blindly  battling. 
She  felt  like  retiring  at  once,  for  she  was  exhausted,  but 
there  was  a  fresh  call  upon  her  strength  within  a  few 
minutes  of  the  spy's  departure.  This  time  it  was  the  man 


AT  ONE  O'CLOCK  A.  M.  185 

whom  she  knew  only  by  his  first  name,  "Mike,"  who  had 
been  sent  from  the  livery  stable  to  take  Ivan  to  the  wed 
ding.  He  was  an  uncouth,  illiterate  young  man,  the  most 
violent  contrast  imaginable  to  her  recent  visitor,  but  also 
the  most  welcome,  for  there  could  be  no  manner  of  doubt 
as  to  his  simple  honesty.  Clara  found  it  a  relief  to  talk 
with  him  apart  from  the  fact  that  his  message  was  OLO 
that  stirred  her  with  new  hope  and  stimulated  her  weary 
brain  to  new  plans  for  Ivan's  deliverance. 

"I  was  to  say  to  ye, "  said  Mike,  "how  I'd  had  me  eyes 
an'  more,  too,  last  night,  on  the  feller  what  did  the  trick 
to  me  wheel." 

"Oh,  indeed!"  exclaimed  Clara  eagerly;  "but  what  do 
you  mean?  Did  somebody  send  you  to  tell  me?" 

"Yes'm,  me  boss.  I  told  me  boss  about  it,  an'  he  says 
you  go  to  Miss  Hilman  with  that,  an'  tell  her  all  about  it, 
an',  says  he,  if  it's  anything  that  can  be  useful  to  her  you 
can  do,  do  it,  says  he." 

"You  must  thank  him  for  me,"  said  Clara.  "Now  tell 
me,  please,  how  and  where  you  saw  this  man,  and  what 
he  said.  I  won't  interrupt  you." 

"It's  not  me  as  would  like  to  tell  you  what  he  said, 
miss.  He  wasn't  speakin*  to  a  lady,  an'  I'm  thinkin'alady 
wouldn't  'a'  give  him  the  cause  to  curse  as  I  did." 

Mike  grinned  in  enjoyment  of  some  retrospect  that  Clara 
thought  she  could  imagine,  and  she  smiled  and  waited  pa- 
tiently for  him  to  tell  his  story  in  his  own  way. 

"It  was  last  evenin',  miss,  at  the  corner  of  Dover  an* 
Washington  streets.  I  was  done  with  me  work  for  the 
day,  an'  was  standin'  in  a  saloon  by  the  bar,  havin'  a  drop 
of  beer  by  myself,  when  this  loafer  came  in.  He  stood 
alongside  o'  me  an'  called  for  something,  I  don't  mind 
now  what,  for  I  was  onto  him,  an'  was  thinkin'  to  meself 
would  I  thump  him,  or  would  I  have  an  argyment.  I  was 
lookin'  straight  at  him,  me  hand  on  me  beer  glass,  an'  I 
suppose  he  noticed  me  for  that,  for  pretty  soon  he  turns 
around  an'  with  a  kind  of  a  start,  'Hello!'  says  he. 

Now  I  don't  know  what  would   'a'  happened  if  he 


i  t- 


186  AT  ONE  O'CLOCK  A.  M. 

hadn't  spoke,  for  I  would  'a'  spoke  to  him,  an'  it 
'a'  been  all  the  same,  but  1  was  that  mad  all  of  a  sud«, 
that  I  let  the  beer  fly  in  his  face.    With  that  he  jum^-a  on 
me  an'  we  had  a  fine  fight,  till  the  bartenders  came  round 
an'  chucked  us  both  into  the  street.  They  was  a  poli<vmun 
near  by,  so  we  quit  fightin,'  an'  went  to  another  bar 
where  we  had  a  drink  an'  got  friendly.     He  was  already 
pretty  full,  miss,  an'  I  was  as  sober  as  I  am  now,  an'  after 
three  or  four  more  drinks  he  got  to  talkin'  confidei 
about  that  wheel." 

Clara  was  on  the  qui  vive  with   anxiety  to  know  just 
what  had   occurred   between  Mike  and  his  acquaint  a 
while  at  the  same  time  she  felt  repugnance  to  basing  any 
serious  efforts  upon  the  words  of  a  drunken   man,  a  sudl 
as  distrust  as  to  the  value  of  a  clew  from   such   a  source; 
but  she  felt,  too,  that  she  could  stop  at  nothing   in 
emergency  that  confronted  her.    So  she  asked,  "What  did 
he  say,  Michael?" 

"First  off  he  was  for  donyin'  that  he  had  any  thin'  to  do 
with  it;  but  bymeby,  aeein'  as  I  wasn't  mad  any  more, 
enjoyin'  the  trick  of  it  himself,  he  told  me  he  done  it,  'an' 
I  know  what  became  of  your  man/  says  he.  'An'  wl: 
says  I.  With  that,  though,  he  shut  up.  He  winked  his  eye, 
an'  talked  about  somethin'  else,  an'  I,  not  thin  kin'  or 
caring  very  much  at  the  time,  didn't  ask  many  questions. 
But  this  mornin*  I  was  thinkin'  it  over,  an'  wonderin' 
what  became  of  th'  gentleman,  an' thinkin'  there  must 
be  something  crooked,  or  they  wouldn't  'a'  took  me  wheel 
off,  an'  so  I  told  me  boss  an'  he  told  me  to  tell  you. " 

"It  was  very  kind  of  you  both,"  said  Clara  grateful,  yet 
fearful  that  the  point  of  most  importance  had  been  lost. 
'Was  his  name  Billings?" 

"No'rn,  'twas  Patterson.  Him  an'  mo  was  together  for 
some  time  after  the  fight,  an'  1  walked  along  home  with 
him." 

"You  know  where  he  lives  then?" 

"Not  exactly,  miss,  but  I  could  go  pretty  near  to  it. 
You  see,  we  was  goin'  along  Washington  Street  toward 


AT  ONE  O'CLOCK  A.  M.  187 

Roxbury,  and  had  come  a  long  way  from  Dover,  when 
he  turns  down  a  side  street,  an'  then  another,  an'  I  kep' 
along  for  I  hadn't  anything  better  to  do.  He'd  been  silent 
for  a  while,  an'  suddenly  he  stops  an'  says,  tryin'  hard  to 
brace  up.  4  You  mustn '  t  com  a  any  further, '  says  he.  'Why 
not?'  says  I,  half  minded  to  give  him  another  lickin',  only 

he  was  too  full.  '  'Cause  me  boss  says  he  will '  but 

never  mind  what  he  said  his  boss  would  do.  I  said  I  didn't 
care,  an'  turned  back.  He  went  on,  an'  then  I  was  minded 
to  see  where  he  went.  Of  course  it  was  dark,  an'  I  couldn't 
be  certain,  but  I  think  I  could  go  straight  to  that  build- 
ing." 

"Will  you  take  me  there?"  asked  Clara. 

"Now,  miss?" 

Clara  reflected.  Other  objections  aside,  it  might  be  the 
worst  possible  policy  to  move  prematurely  in  the  matter. 
It  might  be  a  false  clew,  she  knew  nothing  about  the 
building,  and  meantime  Paul  was  following  Poubalov. 
Much  as  she  longed  for  immediate  action,  it  seemed  wiser 
to  postpone  it  until  an  investigation  could  be  made. 

"Would  your  employer  spare  you  to  help  me  to-morrow 
forenoon?"  she  asked. 

"I  think  he  would,  miss.  He  told  me  to  do  what  you 
said,  says  he " 

"Tell  him,  please,  that  I  would  like  to  have  you  go  with 
me  to-morrow  as  soon  after  nine  o'clock  as  you  can  get 
here.  I  shall  want  you  to  show  me  the  building,  and  iden- 
tify the  man  Patterson." 

"That  I  will,  miss,  if  he's  served  you  any  trick." 

Poubalov  walked  very  rapidly  after  he  left  Mr.  Pem- 
broke's. He  could  have  saved  himself  many  steps  by 

taking  a  street-car,  but  he  evidently  preferred  energetic 
action. 

Paul,  following,  took  note,  as  Litizki  had  done  on  a 
similar  occasion,  of  the  streets  through  which  he  passed, 
and  at  last  he  saw  him  pause  and  stand  for  several  min- 
utes at  the  curb,  looking  across  the  road  at  what  seemed 
to  be  an  old-fashioned  hotel.  After  a  time  he  walked 


AT  ONE  O'CLOCK  A.  M. 

slowly  on,  and  soon  thereafter  was  joined  by  a  man  with 
whom  he  conversed. 

Paul  went  near  enough  to  see  the  man's  face,  but  he  did 
not  recognize  him  as  anybody  he  had  ever  seen  before. 
The  conversation  finished,  Poubalov  continued  on  his 
way,  again  walking  rapidly,  but  this  time,  after  coming 
to  Washington  Street,  he  boarded  a  downtown  car.  An 
open  car  was  directly  behind  it,  and  Paul  found  a  place 
on  its  front  seat,  thus  being  enabled  to  keep  the  spy  in 
view  until  he  alighted  at  Scollay  Square. 

The  guilty  as  well  as  the  innocent  must  eat,  and  supper 
was  the  next  thing  to  engage  Poubalov 's  attention.  Paul 
improved  the  opportunity  in  the  same  way,  but  he  fin- 
ished quickly,  and  waited  a  long  time  for  the  spy  to  come 
forth.  He  had  been  watching  the  restaurant  entrance 
from  a  doorway  across  the  street,  and  at  last  he  ventured 
over  to  see  whether  possibly  his  quarry  had  escaped  him. 
No;  there  sat  Poubalov,  at  a  table  not  far  from  the  door, 
his  head  bent  down  as  if  he  were  thinking  profoundly. 
His  snppor  lay  almost  untouched  before  him.  Just  as 
Paul  looked  in,  the  head  waiter  touched  the  customer  on 
the  shoulder. 

Poubalov  looked  up  with  a  start,  and  the  head  waiter 
seemed  to  be  apologizing  for  his  intrusion.  It  was  cL  ar 
that  he  had  supposed  the  customer  to  be  asleep,  or  ill. 
Poubalov  paid  his  check  and  left  the  place. 

He  went  to  his  lodging-house,  and  when  Paul  saw  that 
he  had  lit  the  gas,  he,  too,  went  inside. 

He  locked  the  door  immediately  and  applied  his  eye 
to  the  nail  hole. 

Poubalov  sat  with  folded  arms  in  an  old-fashioned  rock- 
ing chair,  gazing  abstractedly  before  him.  On  the  little 
center  table  under  the  chandelier,  Paul  could  just  distin- 
guish Clara's  photograph. 

Paul  remained  with  his  eye  at  the  hole  until  it  seemed 
as  if  he  could  stand  no  longer.  In  all  that  time  Poubalov 
had  not  moved  perceptibly. 

The  watcher  got  down  and  looked  at  his  time-piece.  It 


AT  ONE  O'CLOCK  A.  M.  189 

was  half-past  ten.  He  then  sat  with  his  head  against 
the  door  that  he  might  hear  the  slightest  sound  from  the 
front  room. 

Just  what  possessed  Paul  to  be  so  vigilant  on  this  occa- 
sion, when  the  spy  was  doing  absolutely  nothing  but 
cudgel  his  inscrutable  mind,  he  could  not  have  told  in 
less  vague  terms  than  that  he  didn't  want  Poubalov  to 
get  away  from  him.  If  he  were  to  take  a  nocturnal,  or 
early  morning  ramble,  Paul  purposed  to  be  on  hand  to  ac- 
company him. 

Something  like  a  half  hour  passed,  and  then  Paul 
heard  a  long,  heavy  sigh,  and  the  creak  of  the  rocker  as 
Poubalov  rose.  Quickly  mounting  his  perch,  Paul  saw 
him  pace  back  and  forth,  his  hands  clinched  behind  him 
and  his  brow  set  in  hard  wrinkles.  He  seemed  to  be  in 
for  a  night  of  it,  and  as  his  movement  promised  to  be  pro- 
ductive of  nothing  more  than  his  quiescence,  Paul  again 
dismounted  and  sat  down.  So  monotonously  did  the 
march  continue  that  the  listener's  head  began  to  droop, 
lulled  by  the  very  sound  he  had  set  himself  to  hear,  and 
had  it  not  been  for  the  extreme  anxiety  with  which  he  had 
undertaken  his  task,  Paul  would  have  fallen  asleep.  After 
twice  catching  himself  nodding,  he  no  longer  dared  to  sit 
still.  So  he  rose  and  stepped  lightly  about  the  room  to 
start  the  blood  in  his  drowsy  limbs. 

The  sound  of  marching  ceased.  Poubalov  had  stopped 
under  the  chandelier,  and  when  Paul  had  him  in  view 
he  was  in  the  act  of  turning  Clara's  photograph  face  down 
upon  the  table.  He  took  out  the  leather  pocketbook  that 
had  checked  the  dagger  thrust  by  Litizki's  hand,  and  ex- 
amined on©  of  the  documents  in  it  attentively.  It  appeared 
to  be  of  an  official  character,  for  there  was  a  big  seal  upon 
it:  and  it  was  bound  with  ribbon.  Paul  could  see  the 
holes  made  by  the  dagger  in  passing  through  the  several 
folds  of  the  paper,  or  parchment. 

Poubalov  laid  the  document  upon  the  table,  sat  down, 
and,  drawing  fresh  paper  before  him,  began  to  write. 
His  pen  traversed  the  sheets  with  great  rapidity,  and  as 


190  AT  ONE  O'CLOCK  A.  M. 

Paul  could  hear  the  scratching  plainly,  he  again  sought 
relief  from  his  uncomfortable  perch. 

It  was  nearly  one  o'clock  when  the  sound  of  writing 
ceased. 

Paul  saw  that  Poubalov  had  removed  his  coat.  What 
he  had  written  was  folded  and  placed  in  an  envelope  upon 
the  table. 

The  watcher  supposed  that  the  spy  was  about  to  retire, 
but  there  was  so  evidently  something  further  upon 
Poubalov's  mind,  something  that  he  seemed  to  de1 
whether  it  were  best  done  now,  or  in  the  morning,  that 
Paul  kept  his  place  and  watched ;  and  as  he  strained 
his  eye  to  take  in  every  movement,  instinctively  shading 
his  face  although  he  stood  in  the  darkness,  he  saw 
Poubalov  draw  a  revolver  from  his  hip-pocket. 

Placing  the  hammer  at  half-cock,  he  tilted  the  barrel 
forward  and  pushed  the  cartridge  cylinder  about  with  his 
thumb  and  finger. 

Every  chamber  seemed  to  be  as  he  wished  it,  and  he 
readjusted  the  barrel. 

Then  he  walked  to  the  bureau  upon  which  swung  a  half- 
length  mirror.  His  back  was  thus  partial!}'  turned  to 
the  watcher,  and  Paul  could  see  dimly  the  reflection  of  his 
face  looking  somberly  toward  him.  He  held  the  revolver 
in  his  ri^ht  hand,  the  finger  on  the  trigger,  the  barrel 
pointed  toward  tlio  floor. 

Paul  was  in  an  agony  of  doubt  and  apprehension.  What 
should  he  do? 

How  long  would  Poubalov  stand  there  and  allow  him  to 
reflect? 

Would  the  spy,  then,  "get  away,"  and  by  this  manner 
of  exit? 

With  his  left  hand  Poubalov  took  his  watch   from   his 
pocket.     He  glanced  at  the  face  of  the  busy  and   faithful 
little  machine,  and  it  was  only  too  evident  that  he  had 
the  limit  of  his  life  at  some  point  that  the  moving   hands 
would  presently  reach. 


THE  NEW  CLEW.  191 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

THE  NEW  CLEW. 

Frantic  with  anxiety  and  dread,  Paul  followed  a  sudden 
impulse  and  jumped  to  the  floor,  ran  to  the  door  that 
opened  into  the  hall,  unlocked  and  opened  it  and  rushed 
out. 

He  had  a  wild  idea  of  bursting  in  the  door  of  Poubalov's 
room  and  wrestling  with  him  if  need  be  to  take  away 
the  revolver  and  prevent  suicide. 

He  stopped,  startled,  just  outside  his  door,  for  Poubalov 
stood  before  him,  the  light  from  the  chandelier  streaming 
out  upon  him  and  showing  him  erect,  alert,  his  revolver 
pointed  directly  at  the  watcher. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Poubalov,  coolly. 

Paul  caught  his  breath  and  leaned  upon  the  banister. 

"I  was  going  out  in  a  hurry  and  stumbled  against  a 
chair,"  he  stammered. 

"Strange  time  of  night  to  do  things  in  a  hurry, "  re- 
marked Poubaolv,  still  aiming  his  weapon  at  the  young 
man;  "do  you  belong  here?" 

"Yes;  I  moved  in  yesterday." 

Poubalov  stood  a  little  aside  to  let  the  light  fall  more 
fully  upon  Paul's  face. 

"Humph!"  he  said,  lowering  the  revolver;  then  added, 
in  Russian, "you  are  Paul  Palovna,  intimate  friend  of  Ivan 
Strobel." 

"Yes,"  admitted  Paul,  in  the  same  language,  "I  am, 
and  you  are  his  deadly  enemy. ' 

"Bah!"  exclaimed  Poubalov  in  profound  disgust,  "you 
ought  to  know  better.  Come  in  here — but  no!  you  are  in  a 
hurry.  Go,  then;  I  will  talk  to  you  another  time." 

"Better  now,  Poubalov, "  returnd   Paul,   significantly ,- 


192  THE  NEW  CLEW. 

•'one  of  us  might  be  missing  before  another  opportunity 
occurred,  tana  not  so  much  in  a  hurry  that  I  cannot  list  n 
to  you." 

4 'No!"  said  the  spy,  decidedly,  "go  your  way,  and  take 
this  comfort  with  you,  Palovna,  that  you  have  done  your 
friend  Strobel  a  service." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  withdrew  into  his  room 
and  closed  the  door. 

Paul  went  slowly  down  the  stairs  and  opened  the  front 
door  just  as  the  landlady  poked  her  head  from  her  room 
on  the  ground  floor  and  inquired  in  an  agitated  whisper, 
"Whatever  was  the  trouble?" 

"It  is  nothing,"  said  Paul,  "I  stumbled,  and  the  gentle- 
man  in  the  front  room  mistook  me  for  a  burglar,  I  gu 
Sorry  I  disturbed  you." 

"It's  all  right,"  whispered  the  landlady,  "but  I  guess 
he  must  have  scared  you  some.  Your  face  is  as  wet  as  if 
you'd  been  out  in  a  rain." 

Paul  realized  then  to  what  a  tense  degree  his  nerves  had 
been  strained. 

Perspiration  seemed  to  be  oozing  from  every  pore.  His 
knees  felt  weak  and  his  head  dizzy,  but  he  kept  in  mind 
the  part  he  was  playing  and  left  the  house.  Howevrr 
certain  it  was  that  Poubalov  would  infer  that  Strobel 's 
intimate  friend  lodged  there  for  the  purpose  of  watching 
him,  it  would  never  do  to  openly  admit  the  fact  by  re- 
turning immediately  to  his  room. 

He  went  to  the  corner  of  Bowdoin  Street,  and  back  on 
the  other  side  to  a  point  directly  opposite  Poubalov 's  win- 
dows. 

As  he  walked,  one  deep-toned  stroke  rang  out  from  a 
neighboring  church  tower. 

If  that  was  the  hour  Poubalov  had  set  for  putting  a 
bullet  into  his  heart,  he  had  let  it  pass  without -taking 
action. 

Paul  kept  his  eyes  upon  the  curtained  windows  behind 
which  the  chandelier  light  still  glowed,  and  longed  to  be 
back  at  his  peephole,  watcihng  the  spy.  Yet  there  was 


THE  NEW  CLEW.  193 

nothing  that  he  could  do  if  he  were  there.  He  had  seen 
the  one  great  incident  in  Poubalov's  career  come  to  its  cli- 
max upon  the  awful  verge  of  tragedy;  and  he  felt  that  as 
the  spy's  life  trembled  in  the  balance,  the  weight  had 
been  thrown  into  the  scale  for  prolonging  it  by  his  impul- 
sive jump  from  the  chair  on  which  he  had  been  viewing 
the  scene. 

Not  that  Poubalov  was  hesitating ;  his  was  the  nerve  to 
pull  the  trigger  with  the  precision  and  steadiness  of  a 
marksman  when  the  appointed  time  came;  but  the  shock 
of  irrelevant  circumstances  had  been  just  what  was  needed 
to  release  the  morbid  pressure  of  gloomy  contemplation 
from  the  brain,  and  restore  it  to  its  normal  activity. 

Thus  Paul  reflected,  with  his  eyes  upon  the  lighted  win- 
dows. A  party  of  roysterers  swung  into  the  place,  singing 
discordantly.  One  of  them  fell  at  the- corner  of  Bowdoin 
Street,  and  his  companions  helped  him  up  with  drunken 
jeers  and  laughter.  Paul  had  turned  his  head  to  watch 
them,  and  when  he  looked  again  at  the  lodging-house 
across  the  way,  all  the  windows  were  dark.  Poubalov  had 
gone  to  bed. 

As  faithful  as  the  unforunate  Litizki  to  his  task,  Paul 
sat  up  all  that  night.  When  drowsiness  overcame  him,  he 
bathed  his  face  and  head  with  water,  or  walked  gently 
about  the  room.  He  smoked  all  the  cigarettes  in  his  posses- 
sion, for  the  sake  of  having  something  to  do,  and  when 
his  stock  was  exhausted,  he  went  to  a  neighboring  "all- 
night"  restaurant  and  bought  a  handful  of  cigars.  He  lis- 
tened through  the  hours  for  any  suggestive  sound  from 
the  front  room,  but,  beyond  an  occasional  deep  breath,  he 
heard  nothing. 
Poubalov  slept  well. 

It  was  not  until  the  day,  reckoning  by  the  light,  was 
well  advanced,  that  the  spy  rose  and  dressed.  While  he 
was  still  busy  with  his  toilet,  a  messenger  called  and  left 
a  note  for  Paul  with  word  to  the  scrub-woman  who  was 
already  at  work,  that  it  was  to  be  delivered  at  once.  It 
was  from  Clara. 


194  THE  NEW  CLEW. 

"A  new  clew,"  she  wrote,  "and  the  most  promising  one 
thus  far,  has  been  brought  to  me  this  evening.  I  need  help 
in  following  it  to  the  end.  Owing  to  my  uncle's  indisposi- 
tion, I  do  not  feel  like  even  telling  him  about  it,  much 
less  asking  him  to  give  me  his  time.  Can  you  come?  I 
know  you  are  doing  much,  and  quite  likely  taking  time 
that  you  ought  to  devote  to  work,  but  I  ask  some  further 
assistance,  nevertheless,  knowing  that  it  is  not  necvssiry 
for  me  to  plead.  This  is  so  important  that  I  believe  you 
can  leave  Poubalov  for  a  while,  no  matter  -what  he  is  do- 
ing. Please  come  by  nine  o'clock  if  you  possibly  can." 

Paul  had  great  faith  in  Clara,  although  he  had  not 
known  with  sufficient  detail  of  her  recent  work  to  give 
her  judgment  all  the  credit  that  it  deserved,  and  so  he 
found  himself  in  an  annoying  quandary.  To  him  it  seenn-d 
essential  to  follow  Poubalov  now  that  he  was  well  in 
view. 

He  felt,  too,  some  disappointment  at  being  called  a 
without  being  able  to  feel  that  his  night  had  been  spent 
sleeplessly  to  some  purpose. 

It  could  not  be  that  Clar»  had  discovered  anything  of 
great  importance  compared  to  the  developments  that 
would  probably  follow  a  patient  tracking  of  Poubalov 's 
footsteps  during  the  day. 

Why  hadn't  she  mentioned  what  her  clew  was?  No, 
she  depended  upon  him  to  obey  her  implicitly,  as  if  he 
had  no  more  discretion  than  Litizki. 

If  Paul  was  a  bit  unreasonable  and  restive,  let  it  be 
charged  against  his  fatigue.  Few  men  can  keep  an  even 
temper  when  the  nerves  are  unstrung  and  the  whole  body 
cries  for  rest.  Poubalov  saved  him  from  the  error,  if  so  it 
was,  of  disregarding  Clara's  wishes.  It  came  about  in  this 
way: 

Paul  climbed  to  his  observation  perch,  to  see  how  mat- 
ters stood  in  the  next  room.  Poubalov  had  opened  the 
envelope  containing  the  papers  he  had  been  at  work  upon 
during  the  midnight  hour,  and  was  now  destroying  them, 


THE  NEW  CLEW.  195 

burning  them  one  sheet  at  a  time  over  the  wash-bowl  that 
I  he  had  set  upon  the  center  table. 

He  was  fully  dressed,  even  to  the  hat  on  his  head,  and 
Paul  carefully  replaced  the  nail  which  protected  his  peep- 
hole. 

He  stood  by  the  chair  with  Clara's  letter  in  his  hand, 
still  undecided  what  course  to  take,  when  there  was  a 
.  knock  at  his  door. 

He  opened,  and  Poubalov  stood  there. 

"You  can  spare  the  time  now,  I  suppose?"  he  said  in- 
\  quir  ngly  with  a  grim   glance  at  the  valentine  hanging 
from  the  improvised  hook. 

Paul  saw  that  his  ruse  was  discovered,  but  he  followed 
the  spy  into  the  front  room,  his  heart  beating  high  with 
expectation. 

"There  is  never  an  effect  without  a  cause,  young  man,' 
remarked  Poubalov,  motioning  Paul  to  a  chair;  "the  ef- 
fect was  sufficient  for  me  last  night,  and  so  far  as  your  act 
deserves  it,  you  have  my  thanks.  This  morning  I  sought 
the  cause,  and  of  course,  I  found  it.  Do  not  be  disturbed. 
I  have  no  reproaches  to  make.  You  imagined  yourself  at 
war  with  me,  and  you  took  your  own  methods  to  win, 
There  is  nothing  to  complain  of  in  that ;  but  you,  as  a  Rus- 
sian of  intelligence,  should  have  known  that  I  could  not 
be  as  hostile  as  you  think  to  an  American  citizen.  Bah  1 
it's  not  worth  discussing!  You've  all  lost  your  heads. 

"What  I  have  to  say  is  this:  I  am  on  duty  for  the  czar, 
and  having  recovered  from  my  dangerous  temptation  to 
be  derelict,  I  shall  do  what  duty  demands,  without  let  or 
hindrance  from  anybody.  I  will  tolerate  no  interference, 
no  matter  whose  fair  lips  give  the  command.  When  that 
little  wretch,  Litizki,  was  in  that  chair  where  you  are  now 
sitting,  I  sought  to  influence  him  by  threats  against  him  • 
self.  I  don't  take  that  method  with  you,  Paul  Palovna.  If 
you  choose  to  do  so,  you  can  dog  my  footsteps  from  now 
on,  for  I  presume  your  American  laws  will  not  protect 
me  in  my  desire  to  work  undisturbed ;  but  bear  in  mind 
that  I  have  no  more  love  for  Ivan  Strobel  now  than  I  ever 


196  THE  NEW  CLEW. 

had,  and  if  I  see  fit  to  release  him,    it  must  be  I,    Alt 
der  Poubalov,  who  chooses  to  do  so  of  his  own  free  will. 
Do  you  understand  me?" 

"Sufficiently  to  see  that  you  would  frighten  me  from  my 
course  by  threats  against  the  man  whom  you  have  in 
your  power,  and  whom  I  am  trying  to  rescue." 

"You  do  well/'  continued  Poubalov;  "and  if  you  are  in 
any  doubt  as  to  whether  I  am  in  earnest,  I  adv  -\  to 

report  what  I  have  said,  and  what  you  saw  in  this  room 
la>t  night,  to  Miss  Hilman.  She  will  tell  you  whether  1  am 
likely  to  be  gratuitously  merciful.  Spy  upon  me,  there- 
fore, if  you  like.  I  shall  know  that  you  defy  me,  and  you 
will  have  to  bear  the  consequences.  Shall  we  breakfast  to- 
gether, Paul  Palovna?" 

Paul  ignored  the  ironical  invitation,  which  was  Pouba- 
lov's  way  of  saying  that  he  has  said  his  say,  and  re- 
marked : 

"I  also  have  a  suggestion  to  make." 

Poubalov  raised  his  brows  in  contemptuous  surprise  that 
anything  could  bo  ndd»sl  \^  his  statement  of  the-  situai 

"You  havo  spoken  of  .can  law,"  sai>l    Paul,  "and 

I  simply  suggest  that  the  friends  of  Strobel   may 
resort  to  law  to  obtain  his  freedom.     I  don't  kimw  huw 
much  you  may  have  said  to  Liti/ki  and  Miss  Hilman,  but 
you  havo  made  some  damaging  admission>  t<»  i 

"Really  !  is  that  all  you  can  think  of?  It's  hardly  worth 
a  reply,  but  I  will  suggest  in  return  that  what  you  call 
admissions  are  your  own  inferences,  nothing  more.     A-k 
the  nearest  police  captain,  or,  better,  go  to  the  publ 
eoutor  with  your  imaginings.     I  will  tell  you   that   t! 
isn't  a  scrap  of  evidence  on  which  to  base  my  an 
that,  of  course,  is  what  you  aim  at.     You  are  more  of  a 
child  than  I   thought  you  were,  with  all  your  pot 
trivnnct'S  for  peeping  upon  a  Russian  ollicial.     Au  revoir, 
Palovna." 

Paul  went  downstairs  in  a  rage,  impressed,  as  all  were 
•whoever  came  in  contact  with  this  remarkable  man,  with 
IVubulov's  faculty  for  gaining  and  keeping  a  masterful 


THE  NEW  CLEW.  1*7 

control  over  the  situation.  The  worst  of  it  was,  the  spy 
was  probably  entirely  in  the  right  so  far  as  law  was  con- 
cerned. 

As  well  arrest  himself,  Palovna,  as  this  foreigner  who 
had  shown  his  interest  in  the  Strobel  case  in  eccentric 
ways,  perhaps,  but  who  could  not  be  charged  with  crimi- 
nality, unless  possibly  by  Litizki,  and  the  tailor  had  him- 
self made  it  impossble  that  he  should  be  of  any  further 
service. 

There  seemed  to  be  no  course  open  to  him  but  to  re- 
spect Clara's  wishes,  and,  accordingly,  out  to  Roxbury  he 
went. 

He  arrived  at  Mr.  Pembroke's  house  just  before  nine 
o'clock,  and  found  Clara  waiting  for  him,  dressed  to  go 
out. 

They  exchanged  information  while  waiting  for  Mike 
to  come,  Clara  telling  about  the  discovery  of  Patterson, 
and  Paul  giving  a  guarded  account  of  Poubalov's  contem- 
plated suicide. 

He  tried  to  spare  Clara  the  horrors  of  the  scene,  but 
he  felt  that  she  ought  to  know  how  deeply  in  earnest 
Poubalov  was,  that  she  might  the  more  correctly  judge 
him  and  estimate  the  value  of  his  threats. 

"It  must  have  been  a  dreadful  moment/'  she  said  when 
he  had  finished,  "and  I  am  glad  that  another  tragedy  has 
been  averted.  It  is  hard  to  believe  that  he  will  go  to  ex- 
treme measures — but  what  am  I  saying?  What  has  he  not 
done  that  is  cruel,  barbarous  and  wicked?  How  can  I  ex- 
pect anything  but  unmixed  evil  from  such  a  man?  I  be- 
lieve it  is  well  that  for  a  time  we  can  appear  to  withdraw 
our  observations  of  him." 

Mike  was  late,  but  when  he  did  come  he  came  with  a 
coupe. 

"Me  boss  said,  miss,"  he  explained,  "that  if  there  was 
to  be  any  travelin, '  you  was  to  ride  as  far  an'  as  long  as 
you  liked,  with  his  compliments." 

"Your  employer  is  very  kind,"  said  Clara.  "This  gen. 
tleman,  Mr.  Palovna,  will  go  with  me,  and  if  he  asks  you 


W8  THE  NEW  <'LE\V. 

to  do  anything,  you  needn't  wait  for  my  consent.  We  will 
go  straight  to  the  place  where  you   left   Patter-on. 
there,  and  point  out  the  house  you  think  he  went  into, 
don't  drive  up  to  it." 

When  they  were  in  the  coupe,  Clara  continued  to  Paul : 

"I  have  no  definite  plan  as  to  Patterson.    That  nr 
velop  when  \vu  lind  him.     If  he  can   be  cajoled,  bribe. 
frightened  into  telling  us  the  truth,  it  must  be  dun. 
don't  see  that  we  are  called  upon  to  make  nice  discrimina- 
tions in  our  methods." 

"Any  way  is  fair  in  dealing  with  a  criminal,"  returned 
Paul.  "  Humph!" 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Clara,  observing  that  ho 
take  a  lively  interest  in  the  street  through  which  \ 
w«-re  passing. 

"It  may  be  only  a  coincidence,"  said  Paul,  "but  it  just 
occurred  to  mo  that  thus  far  Mike  has  taken   u 
aetly  the  same  course  that  Poubalov  pursued  when   1 
lowed  him  last  evening." 

"I   presume    it's   not   a   coincident  : M.r.d  <1  <  'lara, 

and  she  thought   of   Liti/ki's  passi" 
anything  is  discovered,  you  discover  Poubalov's  hand  in 
it." 

Step  by  stop  the  coup6   followed  Poubalov's  lin< 
march,  and  when  it  drew  up  at  last,   it  was  at  the  v* TV 
cnrner   where   Paul    had  seen   the  spy  talking  with   the 
stranger. 

Mike    got    down    and    opened    the   door,   and   as 
spoke,  Clara  looked  out  in   the    direction   in   whieh   lie 
pointed. 

"This  was  where  Patterson  shook  me,  miss, "  lie  said, 
"an"  I  seen  him  go  along  down  the  street  an'  cross  < 
just  below  there  an' go  into  a   house — that  one,  I   think, 
with  the  balcony  along  the  front,  the  one  a  gentleman  is 
just  eomin'  out  of." 

Clara  drew  hack  into  the  coupe  hastily.  The  gentleman 
coming  from  the  house  in  question  was  Poubalov,  and  ho 
was  walking  toward  them. 


A  STUBBORN  ANTAGONIST.  199 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

A  STUBBORN  ANTAGONIST. 

"Stay  just  where  you  are,  Michael, "  exclaimed  Clara, 
"and  don't  let  that  man  see  your  face." 

Mike  did  as  directed,  pushing  his  head  and  shoulders 
far  into  the  coupe  and  whispering : 

"It  isn't  him,  is  it,  miss,  who's  got  anything  to  do  with 
the  case?" 

"Yes,  "she  replied  in  a  low  tone,  while  she  and  Paul 
kept  as  far  back  in  the  gloom  of  the  carriage  as  they 
could;  "have  you  ever  seen  him  before?" 

"Yes'm,  he  was  down  to  the  stables  the  day  this  gentle- 
man called,  askin'  would  1  know  the  man  who  did  the 
trick  to  me  wheel." 

"It  was  a  ruse, "  muttered  Paul;  "he  pretended  to  in- 
vestigate in  the  same  spirit  that  I  did  so  as  to  throw  sus- 
picion from  himself.  If  he  has  anything  like  the  percep- 
tions that  we  think  he  has,  he  will  recognize  this  rig.  Isn't 
it  the  same,  Mike,  with  which  you  started  to  take  Mr. 
Strobel  to  his  wedding?" 

"Identical,  sir,  horse  an'  all." 

Poubalov  had  passed  them  during  this  brief  conversa- 
tion, and  as  none  of  them  had  ventured  to  look  at  him, 
they  could  not  tell  whether  or  not  he  recognized  the 
turnout. 

They  could  hear  his  rapid  steps  as  he  strode  along, 
and  there  was  certainly  no  pause  to  indicate  that 
he  had  seen  anything  that  surprised  or  interested  him. 

"I  must  know  where  he  goes,"  said  Clara.  "Get  on  the 
box,  Michael,  and  drive  after  him  without  letting  him  see, 
if  you  can  help  it,  that  you  are  following  him.  Let  us 
know  if  he  enters  any  house,  but  do  not  stop  in  front  of 
it." 


200  A  ,ST/  7; HORN  ANTAGONIST. 


'Yes'm,"  replied  Mike,  closing  the  door. 
He  turned  the  vehicle  about  and  drove  slowly  to  the 
corner. 

Poubalov  had  paused,  ostensibly  to  buy  a  paper  at  a 
news-stand  a  little  way  up  the  street.  He  glanced 
back  at  the  approaching  vehicle,  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
and  moved  on  as  rapidly  as  before.  Mike  reported  this  to 
Clara  a  few  minutes  later,  when  he  had  seen  Poubalov 
board  a  Scollay  Square  car. 

"Ho  is  satisfied  that  we  are  following  him,  then,"  said 
Clara,  and  she  felt  afraid  as  she  recalled  the  threats  that 
the  spy  had  uttered  to  Paul. 

Would  he  proceed  promptly  to  put  into  execution  what- 
ever design  he  might  have  for  injuring  Ivan?  Would  not 
the  disappointed  passion  that  had  led  him  to  all  but  the 
commission  of  suicide  now  prompt  him  to  murder  his 
prisoner? 

Clara  sank  back  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands, 
completely  unnerved  for  the  moment  by  the  seeming  im- 
minence of  catastrophe. 

"When  will  the  end  come!"  she  moaned. 

Mike  looked  on  in  honest  and  surprised  distress,  ard 
Paul  himself,  knowing  as  he  did  the  reasons  for  her  excess 
of  fear,  was  at  his  wits'  end  to  suggest  comfort. 

Clara  uncovered  her  eyes  suddenly.  They  blazed  with 
new  determination. 

"Michael,"  she  cried,  "could  you  overtake  the  car  he  is 
on?" 

"I  could  try  it,  miss,  but  he's  got  a  pretty  good  start." 

"Try  it,  then.  Don't  spare  the  horse  for  just  this  once. 
If  you  come  near  to  catching  up,  and  he  looks  around, 
then  drive  more  slowly,  as  if  you  were  not  able  to  keep 
up  the  pace,  and  finally  stop  altogether,  let  the  car  get 
away,  and  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do  next.  Hurry!" 

Mike  did  hurry. 

The  conpe  started  with  a  jolt  as  he  lashed  his  astonished 
horse  into  a  gallop. 


A  STUBBORN  ANTAGONIST.  201 

"What  s  your  plan,  Miss  Hilman?"  asked  Paul,  who  was 
at  a  loss  to  account  for  this  projected  maneuver. 

"The  man  wants  us  to  follow  him,"  she  replied,  turning 
upon  her  companion  almost  fiercely  in  the  intensity  of  her 
excitement.  "He  would  lead  us  away  from  the  scene  of 
his  operations,  don't  you  see?  Since  he  has  discovered 
that  you  have  been  watching  him,  he  has  thought  it  all 
over,  and  he  has  concluded  that  it  is  more  than  likely  that 
you  tracked  him  to  that  street,  for  that  was  the  street, 
wasn't  it?  Of  course!  Then  he  would  naturally  expect  me 
to  go  there.  I  don't  dream  that  he  foresaw  meeting  us  just 
now,  but  what  I  do  believe  to  be  the  case  is,  that  finding 
that  house  insecure  for  his  purpose,  he  is  now  planning  to 
remove  his  prisoner,  and  happening  upon  us  as  he  did,  he 
will  do  what  he  can  to  lead  us  away  from  it.  Don't  you 
see?" 

"It  sounds  reasonable;  and  you  plan,  then,  to  make  a 
pretense  at  a  desperate  effort  to  catch  up  with  him,  and 
when  he  has  got  away  a  considerable  distance,  to  return 
to  the  house  and  investigate." 

"That's  it,  "and  Clara  again  sank  back,  but  this  tiraehej 
face  expressed  energy  and  confidence  in  success. 

"I  wonder  how  we  are  getting  on,"  she  said  after  a  mo- 
ment. They  were  dashing  along  Washington  Street  now 
at  a  furious  rate,  attracting  attention  from  all  passers. 
Paul  tried  to  look  ahead,  bufc  he  could  not  do  so  without 
leaning  far  out  of  the  coupe,  and  that  did  not  seem  to  be 
advisable. 

"Never  mind, "  said  Clara;  "I  think  the  driver  can  be 
trusted  to  play  his  part,  if  his  horse  doesn't  play  it  for 
him  by  falling  down  from  exhaustion.  By  the  way,  I 
had  a  letter  from  O'Brien  this  morning.  You  don't  know 
who  he  is,  do  you?  He  is  the  employee  at  the  Park  Square 
Station  who  saw  Billings  drive  up,  and  who  says  that  a 
man  left  the  carriage  and  went  into  the  station.  The  detect- 
ives, you  know,  supposed  that  man  to  be  Ivan.  It's  a  small 
point,  but  O'Brien  very  kindly  wrote  to  me  when  he  dis- 
covered it.  He  says  he  was  talking  about  the  case  with  a 


202  ^'riiliORN  ANTAGONIST. 

fellow-workman  who  remembered  the  occurrence,  and 
who  says  that  shortly  after  Billings  was  seen  by  O'Brien, 
a  closed  carriage  stopped  at  the  Columbus  Avenue  en- 
trance to  the  station,  near  the  baggage  rooms,  you  know, 
and  that  a  man  left  the  station  and  got  in.  Of  course  that 
was  the  carriage  Billings  drove,  and  the  man  was  doubt 
the  same  who  got  out  at  the  front  entrance.  He  had  simply 
walked  through  the  station,  mingled  with  the  crowd,  per- 
haps going  so  far  as  to  buy  a  ticket  for  New  York,  and 
then  had  rejoined  his  driver.  Doesn't  it  seem  clear?" 

4 'It's  a  perfectly  plausible  explanation  of  the  point,  but 
it's  a  pity  O'Brien's  friend  didn't  turn  up  with  it  sooner. 
You  might  have  been  saved  your  journey  to  New  York." 

"I'm  not  sure  about  that.  I  am  not  sorry  that  I  saw  Liz- 
zie White,  although  I  never  felt  for  an  instant  that  Ivan 
had  eloped." 

The  coupe"  was  still  rattling  onward  at  the  highest  speed 
the  horse  could  attain,  but  a  moment  after  Clara  had  fin- 
ished, it  came  to  a  sudden  halt,  and  they  heard  a  stern 
voice  saying: 

"You  know  better  than  to  drive  so  fast  in  the  street! 
I've  a  great  mind  to  take  you  in. " 

Mike  was  protesting  in  characteristic  fashion,  inventing 
soin«  thing  about  the  necessity  of  catching  a  train,  when 
Clara  opened  the  coupe1  door  and  stepped  out.  A  policeman 
stood  at  the  horse's  head,  glaring  with  offended  dignity 
at  the  driver. 

"If  there  is  any  fault  it.  is  mine,  officer,"  she  said 
sweetly;  "please  scold  me,  for  I  told  him  to  drive  as  fast 
as  he  could." 

"That  don't  make  no  difference,  ma'am,"  returned  the 
policeman,  instantly  mollified,  but  still  feeling  it  incum- 
bent upon  him  to  assert  the  majesty  of  municipal  ordi- 
nances; "he's  a  regular,  and  he  knew  better.  'Tain't  al- 
lowed to  go  so  fast  anywhere  in  Boston  'less  it's  on  a  race 
track." 

"I'm  very  sorry,"  said  Clara. 

"Go  on  with  you, "  commanded  the  policeman  to  Mike, 


A  STUBBORN  ANTAGONIST.  203 

"and  be  a  little  more  careful.  It  would  be  rougfr  on  me, 
you  see,"  he  added  to  Clara,  "if  I  wasn't  to  stop  him." 

Mike  looked  inquiringly  down  at  his  passenger. 

"Come  to  the  door  a  minute,  Michael, "  she  said,  and 
returned  to  the  coupe. 

"That  cop's  too  fresh  to  live, "  remarked  Mike  as  he 
put  his  head  in  to  receive  instructions. 

"Were  we  anywhere  near  the  car?"  asked  Clara. 
'Yes'm,  we  was   most  onto  it,   an' I  was  just  goin' to 
pull  up  a  bit   when  the  cop  got  in  his  work." 

"Could  you  see  the  man  we  were  after?" 

"Yes'm;  he  turned  round,  an'  I  guess  he  saw  what  the 
cop  did,  but  I  lost  sight  of  him  try  in'  to  keep  me  horse 
from  treadin'  on  the  cop's  toes." 

"It's  just  as  well,  then,"  said  Clara,  satisfied.  "I'm 
rather  glad  the  policeman  stopped  us,  for  now  Poubalov 
will  be  certain  why  it  was  that  we  didn't  catch  up.  You 
needn't  hurry  so  now,  Michael;  drive  back  to  the  place 
where  we  started  from." 

"Where  Patterson  shook  me,  miss?  All  right.  I'm  on," 
and  he  clambered  back  to  the  box. 

Nothing  occurred  to  disturb  their  return  jouraey,  and 
when  Mike  again  opened  the  door  for  instructions,  Clara 
and  Paul  got  out. 

"We  will  go  straight  to  the  house  and  inquire  for  Pat- 
terson,"  said  Clara,  "and  if  we  don't  find  him  there,  we'll 
ask  all  along  the  stret." 

"Whist,  miss!"  exclaimed  Mike,  in  his  eagerness  grip- 
ping her  arm;  "there  goes  Patterson  now!" 

"Where?"  she  cried,  looking,  of  course,  in  the  wrong 
direction. 

"Below  there,  him  on  the  box  of  the  closed  carriage, 
miss.  On  my  soul,  it  looks  like  the  same— — " 

"Follow  it  quick,  Michael,"  she  said  excitedly.  "Come, 
Paul!"  and  she  sprang  into  the  coupe. 

"I'll  sit  on  the  box  with  Mike,"  answered  Paul,  tremen- 
dously aroused ;  he  was  already  climbing  to  a  place  beside 


2U4  A  STUBBORN  ANTAGONIST. 

the  driver;  "from  here  I  can  act  quicker.     Hit  her  up, 
Mike!" 

So  off  they  went  on  another  pursuit,  Mike  treating  his 
horse  to  more  lash  than  he  had  ever  experienced  before. 

"I  don't  believe  you'll  need  to  go  so  fast  as  to  risk 
arrest,"  said  Paul;  "Patterson  probably  don't  suspect 
that  we  are  after  him,  and  it  would  be  better  to  go  a  little 
slower  than  to  be  stopped  again  by  a  policeman. " 

"I  almost  ran  down  one  cop  who  tried  to  make  me  pull 
up  before, "  responded  Mike,  through  set  teeth,  "an1  I 
wouldn't  mind  bein'  took  in  myself  if  it  wasn't  for  spoiliu' 
the  game.  I'll  look  sharp,  sir,  never  fear." 

Patterson  and  his  carriage  had   disappeared  around   a 
corner  almost  before  the  coupe"  had  started,  but  they  \ 
soon  in  view  again,  jogging  forward  at  a  rather  lively 
rate  several  blocks  ahead. 

"Will  I  overhaul  him,  sir,  right  a  way?"  asked  Mike 
"I  could  do  it  by  driving  like  sin." 

"Don't  risk  it,"   answered  Paul ;  "as  long  as  he  is  in 
sight,  I  shan't  worry  if  we  gain  a  little  at  every  1)1 
Let's  not  drive  fast  enough  to  attract  attention,  for  wo 
may  have  a  row  when  we  catch  him,  and  the  less  cr 
around  the  hotter.1' 

"If  there's  to  be  a  fight"  said  Mike,  with  a  hopeful  prrin, 
"I  ran  d .»  Patterson.  I'm  not  even  with  him  yet  for  doin' 
the  trick  to  mo  wheel." 

"All  right.  If  it  comes  to  a  scrimmage,  you  look  after 
him,  and  I'll  try  to  attend  to  the  passengers.  I'll  tell  y<>u 
just,  what  we  suspect,  so  that  you  can  understand  what 
you  are  to  do.  If  we're  not  mistaken,  Mr.  Strobol  is  in 
that  carriage,  helplessly  bound.  There  may  be  another 
man  with  him.  In  any  case,  we  must  get  Strobe -1  ;r 
and  put  him  in  the  coup£.  When  that  is  done,  yon  drive 
straight  to  Mr.  Pembroke's.  Don't  wait  for  Miss  Hilman 
or  me  if  we  don't  happen  to  get  in.  We'll  take  care  of  our- 
selves. You  look  out  for  Mr.  Strobel.  Call  the  police  to 
help  if  you  need  to,  for  we've  nothing  to  fear  from  the 
law." 


A  STUBBORN  ANTAGONIST.  205 

"I'm  on,"  said  Mike. 

The  chase  went  on  to  the  perfect  satisfaction  of  Palovna, 
who,  with  growing  excitement,  saw  the  distance  between 
him  and  Patterson's  carriage  gradually  decreasing.  His 
one  fear  now  was  that  Strobel  would  be  found  to  be  seri- 
ously injured,  and  he  felt  a  great  dread  lest  Poubalov  in 
his  madness  had  killed  him !  He  would  not  dwell  upon 
this  thought,  however,  concentrating  all  his  force  on  the 
struggle  that  would  probably  ensue  when  the  closed  car- 
riage was  at  last  overtaken. 

They  were  now  in  Washington  Street,  and  again  going 
toward  the  city. 

Patterson  was  less  than  a  block  away, 

"Give  it  to  him  now,  Mike,"  said  Paul;  "get  right 
alongside  and  make  him  pull  up." 

Mike  nodded  and  gave  his  horse  a  smart  cut  with  the 
whip.  He  sprang  forward  at  a  gallop.  Patterson  was 
driving  near  the  curb,  and  Mike  took  the  outside.  He 
drove  close  beside  the  closed  carriage,  in  order  to 
"pocket"  his  adversary  and  so  compel  him  to  pull  up.  The 
maneuver  succeeded  admirably. 

Taken  by  surprise  at  the  sudden  appearance  of  a  rapidly 
galloping  horse  very  near  his  wheels,  Patterson  reined 
his  pair  nearer  to  the  curb,  uttering  an  impatient  curse 
at  the  carelessness  of  the  other  driver.  Mike  forced 
him  over  still  further,  and  Patterson  was  compelled  in 
self-defense  to  stop. 

As  he  did  so  he  turned  his  head  to  tell  Mike  what  he 
thought  of  him,  'and  Paul  recognized  the  stranger  whom 
he  had  seen  in  conversation  with  Poubalov. 

The  two  drivers  exchanged  angry  words  that  would 
look  rather  worse  in  print,  if  possible,  than  they  sounded, 
and  Paul  lost  no  time  in  descending  to  the  ground.  The 
vehicle,  were  too  close  together  to  admit  of  going  between 
them,  so  he  ran  around  to  the  sidewalk  and  wrenched 
open  the  carriage  door. 

Then  he  stood  stock  still. 

The  carriage  was  empty. 


206  A  STVHUnliX  A  <  >NIST. 

Clara  was  beside  him  in  an  instant,  and  though  h 
fell,  she  exclaimed : 

".Shut  the  door  and  stop  the  quarrel.  I  must  speak  to 
Patterson." 

Everything  had    happened  so  quickly  that    tho    t 
drivers  were    still    on     their  respective    boxes,  making 
remarks  to  each  other,  when  Paul  stopped  upon  the  w 
beside  Patterson  and  said : 

"Mike,  drive  up  to  the  curb  just  in  front  of  us.     < 
down,  Patterson.     We've  something   to  say  to  you." 

Patterson  looked  down   in   surprise,  glanced  at  Clara, 
shook  his  head  and  gathered  up  the  reins  for  a  j  .• 
start. 

Paul  sprang  from  tho  wheel  and  caught  the  horses  by 
the  bits  before  they  had  taken  a  step. 

Mike  was  carrying  out  instructions  and  was  then   j 
abreast  of  him. 

"Mike!"  said  Paul  in  a  loud  voice,  "don't  stop,  but 
pick  up  tho  first  policeman  you  can  lind  and  bring  him 
here  in  a  hurry!  We'll  till k  to  this  man  in  a  coll  if  he 
won't  wait  hero." 

Patterson  was  unquestionably  alarmed  at  this. 

11  What  is  it  you  want?"  he  asked  in  a  surly  tone. 

"Got  down,  and  tho  lad}'  there  will  tell  you,"  answered 
Paul. 

Patterson  prepared  to  obey,  but  just  thon  a  south-bound 
car  stopped  near  them,  and  Ponbalov  alighted.  He  c;; 

dly  toward  the  group,  his  dark  face  darker  yet  with 
passion. 

"Stay  on  the  boxl"  he  commanded.  Ho  took  off  his  hat, 
bowed  stiffly  to  Clara,  with  one  hand  on  the  carriage 
door,  and  said : 

"This  is  my  carriage.  Miss  Hilman.  Drive  on,  James," 
and  before  even  quick-witted  Clara  could  interpose  a 
restraining  word,  the  door  had  closed  upon  Poubalov,  and 
the  carriage  rolled  away. 


HIDE  AND  SEEK.  207 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

HIDE   AND   SEEK. 

Clara's  face  was  deathly  pale,  and  in  her  heart;  anger 
burned  as  hotly  at  Poubalov's  ceremonious  insolence  as  it 
ached  with  this  fresh  blow  to  her  hopes.  Paul,  blue  with 
despair,  feared  for  her,  but  she  had  not  yet  met  the  emer- 
gency  that  was  too  great  for  her  to  contend  with,  however 
unsuccessful  she  might  be. 

"We  must  waste  no  time  here!"  she  cried  stepping 
quicklj'  forward  to  the  coupe.  "Return  to  that  house, 
Paul,  and  search  it;  do  what  you  think  is  best,  according 
to  developments.  I  am  going  to  pursue  Poubalov  as  I  said 
1  would.  If  I  do  not  hear  from  you  before  the  day  is  over, 
Paul,  I  shall  go  to  that  house  myself.  If  you  have  to  go 
downtown,  leave  word  at  Mrs.  White's.  Keep  that  car- 
riage in  view,  Michael,  but  don't  try  to  overtake  it. 
Good-by,  Paul!" 

Her  voice  quivered  with  the  desperation  that  had  driven 
the  tears  to  the  brink  of  her  eyes,  and  she  hastily  entered 
tho  coupe  and  pulled  down  the  window  curtains.  Thus 
shut  out  from  view,  she  gave  way  freely  to  her  over- 
strained emotions,  her  soul  seeming  to  be  borne  along  on 
a  rushing  torrent  of  grief,  and  she  felt  that  appalling 
desire,  than  which  there  is  no  more  shocking  experience 
of  the  heart,  to  throw  herself  into  the  arms  of  the  lost 
loved  one  and  find  comfort  there. 

It  was  a  great  day  for  sturdy  Mike.  The  regret  that  he 
hadn't  had  time  just  now  to  "lambast"  his  friend  Patter- 
son, was  sweetly  assuaged  by  the  fact  that  he  was  still 
pursuing  the  loafer  who  did  the  trick  to  his  wheel,  and  the 
hope  that  another  opportunity  would  soon  offer  for  a  fine 
fight. 

The  chase  exhilarated  him,  and  the  thought  that  he 


208  HIDE  AXD  SEEK. 

was  called  upon   to  champion   a   beautiful  woman,  made 
his  fists  ache  to  do  valiant  service  upon  som<-L  jdy's   L 
Patterson's  preferred,  and  he  thumped   his  knees   gently 
with  his  knuckles  by  way  of  practice,  and  kept  his   horse 
at  a  brisk  trot  a  few  rods  behind  Poubalov's  carriage. 

He  was  quite  confident  that  he  could  "do"  both  dri 
and  passenger  if  such   a  thing   were  necessary,  and   ho 
longed  heartily  for  an  occasion  to  demand  a  trial  of  his 
prowess. 

After  having  traversed  a  considerable  distance,  he 
pulled  up,  got  down  and  gently  opened  the  door. 

"Whist,  miss,"  he  said,  "they've  stopped  entirely." 

"Where  are  we,  and  where  are  they?"  asked  Clara,  now 
her  composed  self  again. 

"In  Scollay  Square,"  answered  Mike,  "and  they're  j 
foreninst  the  Crawford  House.  The  gentleman's  talkin'  to 
Patterson.     Now  he's  lookin'  at  me,  bud  luck  to  him  !" 

"I  don't  wish  to  come  np  to  him, "  said  Clara ;  "if  he 
comes  this  way  I  shall  be  glad.  You  must  have  no  fear 
if  we  talk  angrily  together." 

"I'd  like  to "  began  Mike,  significantly. 

"Yes,  I  know  you  would,"  she  interrupted,  ''but  we 
must  have  no  trouble  unless  I  give  the  word.  I  mi^ht  do 
so  if  I  thought  a  policeman  would  arrest  him,  and  not 
you." 

"As  to  that,  miss,"  said  Mike,  ruefully,  "any  copper's 
more  likely  to  pull  in  the  poor  cab-driver   inst.-ad   <>f  the 
lino  p-ntKnwn.  My  brother's  on  the  force,  an*   if  we 
only  on  his  beat,  now!" 

"Tell  me  what  they  are  doing,  please." 

"The  gentleman  is  going  into  the  hotel.  Patterson  is 
starting  away.  Shall  I  follow  him?" 

Clara  reflected  just  an  instant. 

"No, "she  answered.  "Stay  here.  I'm  not  going  to 
pursue  another  empty  carriage." 

"Huh!"  chuckled  Mike,  "you're  a  keen  one,  sure,  for 
that's  just  what  he's  wantin'  you  to  do.  Patterson  has 
turned  down  Hanover  Street." 


HIDE  AND  SEEK.  209 


<  *  • 


'We'll  wait  until  he  comes  back,  "said  Clara,  "if  we 
have  to  spend  the  rest  of  the  day  here;  but  you  watch  the 
hotel —  Stay!  there's  a  side  entrance  to  the  Crawford 
House,  isn't  there?  Can  you  place  the  coupe  where  you 
can  see  both  doors?" 

"  Yes,  but  I  don't  know  how  long  the  police  will  let  me 
stay  there." 

"Try  it,  please.  If  they  make  you  move  on,  drive  around 
the  square  and  come  back." 

Mike  accordingly  drove  up  to  the  curb  of  Tremont  Row, 
where  he  could  look  down  Brattle  Street.  No  policeman 
had  disturbed  him  before  Patterson  turned  from  Cornhill 
into  the  square.  He  had  driven  around  a  few  blocks,  evi- 
dently for  the  purpose  of  testing  the  design  of  his  pur- 
suers. Clara  wondered  why  Poubalov  should  permit  such 
a  chase  to  continue.  It  would  have  seemed  more  like  him 
to  come  to  her  with  some  of  his  characteristic  sophistry, 
and  either  appear  to  yield,  or  adopt  an  entirly  different 
course.  It  must  be  that  he  had  some  plan  in  view  to  the 
execution  of  which  Patterson  and  his  closed  carriage  were 
essential. 

Patterson  drove  to  the  front  entrance  of  the  hotel  and 
waited,  casting  ugly  glances  across  the  square  at  Mike,  who 
grinned  complacently  and  shook  his  fist. 

After  a  moment  Poubalov  came  out,  entered  the  carri- 
age, and  Patterson  promptly  drove  away.  It  was  plain  as 
day  that  he  had  received  his  instructions  while  Poubalov 
stood  on  the  side-walk  at  the  time  of  their  arrival  there. 
He  was  to  see  whether  Clara  would  persist  in  her  pursuit, 
and  if  so  he  was  to — and  that  remained  to  be  seen. 

Mike  speedily  resumed  the  reins,  and  again  the  chase 
was  in  progress.  Patterson  went  down  Hanover  Street, 
and,  without  any  apparent  effort  to  distance  his  pursuer, 
kept  on  until  he  came  to  Fleet  Street,  which  leads  to  one  of 
the  East  Boston  ferries. 

He  turned  in  there,  and  Mike  lost  a  little  by  reason  of  a 
temporary  jam  of  vehicles.  As  soon  as  ho  was  out  of  it, 
he  too  went  through  Fleet  Street,  and  saw,  to  his  satisfac- 


210  HIDE  AND  SEEK. 

tion,  that  Patterson  was  still  but  a  short  distance  ahead. 

With  painful  anxiety,  however,  he  saw  that  Patter- 
son was  making  for  the  ferry,  before  which  a  rapidly 
increasing  line  of  vehicles  stood  waiting  for  a  chance 
to  cross.  Mike  whipped  up  energetically,  and  man- 
aged to  beat  several  drays  and  express  wagons  on  the  way 
in,  and  when  at  last  he  had  to  pull  up  and  take  his  place 
in  line,  Patterson's  was  the  carriage  directly  in  front  of 
him. 

"Smart,  ain't  ye,  ye  loafer!"  said  Mike,  disdainfully. 

Patterson  did  not  notice  this  remark,  or  any  other  of 
the  many  with  which  Mike  assailed  him  while  they  waited 
for  an  incoming  boat  to  discharge  its  cargo.  When  at 
length  the  gates  were  opened  for  the  waiting  vehicles, 
Mike  was  on  the  alert  to  take  advantage  of  any  opening 
that  might  occur  to  enable  him  to  forge  ahead,  but  none 
occurred. 

Policemen  and  ferry  officials  kept  the  teams  to  their 
places,  and  if  Mike  had  attempted  a  trick,  he  would  have 
been  compelled  to  go  back,  and  thus  lose  more  than  he 
could  have  gained. 

One  by  one  the  carriages  and  wagons  went  on  board, 
and  just  after  Patterson  had  passed  the  barrier  the  gates 
were  closed. 

"Hold  on  there!"  howled  Mike,  beside  himself  with 
disappointment  and  rage,  "don't  yees  see  I've  got  to  get 
aboard?" 

The  gateman  laughed  and  told  him  to  make  himself 
easy ;  and  Patterson,  from  his  place  at  the  very  stern  of 
the  ferryboat,  stood  up  in  his  seat  and  beckoned  to  Mike 
ironically. 

The  unhappy  chap  fumed  in  vain  and  got  down  to  tell 
Clara  about  it. 

"We're  shook,  miss,  shook  entirely,"  he  said  despond- 
ently. 

When  Cara  understood  the  unfortunate  meaning  of  his 
words,  and  saw  that  Poubalov  had  won  in  another  skir- 
mish, she  herself  was  in  a  quandary. 


HIDE  AND  SEEK.  211 

"Tii ere  are  two    ferries,   aren't    there?"    she    asked. 

Aren't  they  near  enough  together  on  this  side  to  make  it 
possible  to  watch  both  for  their  return?  for,  of  course, 
they  haven't  gone  to  East  Boston  for  any  other  purpose 
than  to  come  back  here  again  unperceived. " 

"That  might  possibly  be  done,  miss,"  said  Mike,  after  a 
look  at  the  jam  of  vehicles  behind  him,  "but  we're  in  for 
a  trip  across  anyways,  for  I  couldn't  turn  'round  now. 
An'  then,  d'ye  see,  there's  more  ways  to  get  back  from 
East  Boston.  They  might  go  over  to  Chelsea,  an'  come 
back  by  that  ferry,  or  take  a  run  around  by  road  and 
bridge,  so  you'd  best  give  'em  up  as  lost,  miss,  an'  it's 
sorry  I  am  to  tell  you  so." 

"Well,"  said  Clara  sighing,  "if  we  have  to  cross,  we 
can  make  inquiries  on  the  other  side,  and  possibly  come 
up  with  them  again.  We'll  try  ifc. " 

Inquiries  on  the  East  Boston  side  were  vain  when  they 
landed  there  ten  minutes  later. 

No  one  to  whom  they  spoke  could  remember  whether 
a  carriage  such  as  they  described  had  been  across  or  not. 

One  man,  anxious  to  parade  information  that  he  did 
not  possess,  thought  vaguely  that  the  carriage  might  have 
gone  thus  and  so,  and  Clara  instructed  Mike  to  drive  that 
way  a  short  distance,  and  then  to  return  to  Boston  by  the 
other  ferry. 

This  was  done,  and  all  trace  of  Poubalov  having  been 
lost,  and  but  one  more  hope  remaining  to  her — Paul's 
investigation  of  the  house  in  Roxbury — she  directed  Mike 
to  drive  to  Ashburton  Place. 

Paul  had  arrived  at  Mrs.  White's  a  few  minutes  ahead 
of  her. 

"I  waited  for  you, "  he  said  in  a  disheartened  voice, 
"because  I'm  completely  at  a  loss  what  to  do  next,  not 
because  I  have  anything  of  importance  to  say." 

"Everything  is  of  importance,  Paul, "  replied  Clara,  find- 
ing herself  now  called  upon  to  inspire  her  allies  with 
courage  as  well  as  give  them  ideas.  "You  went  to  that 
quaint-looking  house,  of  course?" 


212  HIDE  AND  KEEK. 

"Yes,  it's  an  abandoned  tavern — that  is,  it  was  formerly 
run  as  a  hotel,  but  the  enterprise  was  a  failure,  and   i; 
now  closed.     I   learned   that  much  from  a  man  who 
passing  while  I  stood  under  the  balcony,  waiting  for  some- 
body to  answer  my  ring.     Ho  remarked  that  he  didn't 
believe  I'd  find  anybody  at  home,  as  the  house  had  been 
practically  deserted  for  some  time." 

"But  we  saw  Poubalov  come  out  of  there  this  morning," 
urged  Clara. 

*'I  said  as  much  to  my  informant,  but  he  answered  that 
it  was  probably  somebody  who  had  been  looking  it  over 
with  a  view  to  purchase.  Of  course  we  know  better,  but  it 
goes  to  show  that  neither  Patterson  nor  anybody  else  lives 
there." 

"Except  Ivan,  if  he  still  lives,"  said  Clara  gravely. 

"Don't  think  I  forgot  that  possibility, "  returned  Paul, 
earnosly.  "I  quietly  tried  tho  door  after  my  informant 
had  passed  on;  he  didn't  know  the  name  of  the  owner,  by 
the  way.  Of  course  tho  door  wa«  locked.  I  went  around 
to  the  side  and  back,  for  then-  is  a  driveway  there  leading 

allies  that  are  apparently  as  little  used  as  tl.»-   ta\ 
itself.     Every  door   and    every  window    was    closed.     I 
knocked  and  shouted,  and  then  neighbors  put  their  IK  ads 
out  of  windows  and  Advised  me  that  I  was  making  a  n< 
to  no  purpose.     If  it  had  been   night  I  would  have  burst 
oprn  a  door  or  window,  and  have  gone  through  the  house 
from  roof  to  cellar,  but  that  plAn  is  rather  impractu-ablo 
by  daylight." 

"I  wonder,"  said  Clara,  "if  the  law  would  allow  a  search 
of  that  building.  I  mean  something  to  be  done  officially. 
I've  heard  of  search-warrants." 

"It's  barely  possible,  and  you  might  try  it;  but  my 
idea,  such  as  it  is,  would  be  to  go  there  quietly  to-night 
ourselves,  and  force  an  entrance." 

"And  in  either  case  Poubalov  might  return  during  the 
day,  and  effect  a  change  in  the  situation  that  would  make 
the  search  useless." 

"  Vos,"  said  Paul,  gloomily,  "1  had  thought  of  that." 


HIDE  AND  SEEK.  213 

"The  house  must  be  watched  this  afternoon,"  said 
Clara,  decidedly,  "but  it  is  my  very  distinct  impression 
that  Poubalov  will  go  to  his  lodging  before  he  returns  to 
Roxbury.  It  seems  to  me  he  must  have  been  on  his  way 
there  when  he  was  compelled  to  make  a  long  detour  to 
elude  us.  And  that  means  that  I  think  his  lodging  should 
be  watched  as  carefully  as  the  abandoned  tavern.  Will 
you  pass  the  afrernoon  in  your  room,  Paul?" 

"Certainly,  unless  there  is  a  better  way  of  watching 
there.  You  must  remember  that  Poubalov  has  discovered 
my  peephole." 

"Then,"  said  Clara,  "we  will  borrow  the  little  front 
hall  room  occupied  by  the  young  lady.  Let  us  go  down  at 


once. ' 


On  this  occasion  Mrs.  White  had  left  them  to  themselves, 
much  to  Clara's  relief,  for  she  would  not  have  cared  again 
to  discuss  her  plans  in  the  good  lady's  presence.  It  was 
not  that  she  distrusted  Mrs.  White's  intentions,  but  she 
had  proven  before  that  she  was  exceedingly  pliable  in 
Poubalov's  hands. 

As  they  were  ready  to  go,  Clara  sought  Mrs.  White 
to  say  good-by. 

"I'm  sorry  you  are  going  so  soon, "  said  the  landlady; 
"I  thought  you  and  Mr.  Palovna  would  want  a  long  talk, 
and  so  I  busied  myself  in  the  kitchen,  for  fear  I  couldn't 
help  interrupting  to  tell  you  my  own  good  news.  I  expect 
Lizzie  home  to-night." 

"Do  you,  indeed?"  exclaimed  Clara;  "I  am  really  very 
glad  for  you." 

"It  seems  better,  doesn't  it?"  continued  Mrs.  White, 
anxious  to  talk  to  somebody,  and  eager  for  sympathy; 
"she  hasn't  told  me  a  word  in  her  letters  about  why  she 
went  away,  but,  of  course,  I  suspected ;  and  I  think  from 
the  way  she  writes  in  the  letter  I  got  this  morning  that 
she  feels  better,  poor  thing!  At  any  rate,  she's  coming, 
and  I  feel  very  happy,  and  I  should  be  perfectly  content  if 
only  you  could  be  happy,  too,  Miss  Hilman." 

"That  seems  almost  an  impossible  boon  for  me  now," 


214  HIDE  AND  SEEK. 

replied  Clara,  gently;  "I  shall  come  to  see  you  and  your 
daughter  if  she  would  like  to  have  me." 
"I  am  sure  she  would,  Miss  Hilman.    Must  yon  him 
Every  minute  seemed    so  precious  to  Clara  that  ^ie 
almost  begrudged  the  brief  interval    spent   in    this 
change  of  courtesies.     On  the  way  to  Bulfinoh   Place  >he 
told  Paul  again  that  she  should  manage  to  watch  the 
tavern  during  the  afternoon,    "but,"  she  added,  "you  are 
most  likely  to  meet  important  developments,  and  you  \\ill 
know  where  to  find  me,  either  near  the  tavern,  or  at  my 
uncle's.     I  shall  try  to  watch  the  tavern  in  such  a  way  as 
not  to  frighten  off  Poubalov  should  he  wish  to  go  in,  hut 
once  he  should  enter,  I  shall  follow  him,  you  may   be 


sure." 


At  the  lodging-house  Clara  made  herself  known  to  the 
occupant  of  the  front  hall  room,  who  was  at  the  time  home 
for  luncheon. 

Clara  talked  with  her  apart  at  length,  telling  her  in  a 
general  way  of  her  troubles,  but  not  indicating  her  plans 
in  detail. 

The  young  woman  had  not  oome  in  contact  with  Pou- 
balov at  all,  it  seemed. 

She  hardly  knew  that  he  was  a  lodger  in  the  hoi 
and    the    upshot  of  it  was  that    her    sympathies  v 
aroused,  and  Paul  was   installed  in  her  room,  where  lie 
could  keep  watch  upon  the  roadway  through  the  sin1 
the  closed  blinds.    So  once  more  Clara  bade  him  good-by, 
and  set  forth  on  her  own  task. 

Paul  did  not  venture  to  keep  himself  awake  by  smoking 
in  the  young  lady's  room,  and  he  therefore  had  a  dr 
fully  hard  time  of  it,  for  the  entire  afternoon  passed  with- 
out an  event  of  any  kind  to  break  the  monotony  of  his 
watch. 

The  young  lady  returned  at  six  o'clock,  and  looked 
in  for  a  moment  before  going  to  dinner.    After  that 
sat  gossiping  with  the  landlady. 

The  sun  set  and  twilight  gathered,  and  Paul  began  to 


HIDE  AND  SEEK.  215 

fear  that  Poubalov  had  changed  his  quarters  without 
giving  notice;  but  just  before  it  was  too  dark  to  distin- 
guish faces  in  the  street  below,  a  carriage  stopped  be- 
fore the  door  and  Paul  saw  that  Patterson  sat  on  the 
box. 


216  BEHIND  CLOSED  DOORS. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

BEHIND  CLOSED  DOORS. 

"About  this  hour,  one  week  ago  to-day,"  thought  Clara 
as  she  took  her  place  again  in  the  coupe,  "I  should  have 
been  getting  into  a  carriage  at  the  church  door,  with  Ivan, 
as  his  wife!  What  an  eternity  seems  to  have  passed  since 
then!  Will  the  search  and  the  waiting  never  end?" 

There  were  no  tears  now,  no  disposition  to  give  way. 
The  dull  ache  at  her  heart  was  there,  and  it  seemed  as  if 
it  would  stay  forever,  but  all  emotion  now  was  held  in 
check  by  her  determination  not  to  let  the  day  pass  with- 
out a  decisive  investigation  of  this  latest  clew  that  had 
so  far  led  to  so  much  racing  about,  and  thus  far,  too,  to 
the  utter  defeat  of  her  every  plan. 

"Where  to,  miss?"  asked  Mike  who  had  been  standing 
at  t he  coup6  door. 

Clara  had  forgotten  him  for  the  moment,  forgotten 
even  where  she  was. 

Aroused  to  the  work  in  hand,  she  debated  for  about 
one  second  whether  to  appeal  to  a  lawyer  to  get  a  search- 
warrant  for  her. 

She  dismissed  the  suggestion  as  likely  to  involve  too 
much  delay.  She  had  never  had  any  experience  in  li\v 
suits,  but  she  had  that  general  conviction  due  to  the 
accepted  phrase  "the  law's  delay,"  that  no  one  should 
resort  to  the  courts  unless  there  were  ample  time  and  to 
spare. 

"We  will  go  first  to  my  uncle'a  house,"  she  said,  "and  I 
would  like  to  have  you  take  such  a  route  that  you  will 
pass  the  house  where  we  saw  Poubalov  and  Patterson  this 
forenoon." 


BEHIND  CLOSED  DOORS.  217 

"An  I  s'pose  I'm  to  let  you  know  if  I  see  what's-his- 
name  or  Patterson  on  the  way?" 
"By  all  means!  do  not  stop  unless  you  do." 
The  half  hour's   drive  to  Roxbury  was  without  adven- 
ture.   Clara  now  had  the  curtains  of  the  coupe  up,  and  she 
glanced  from  side  to  side  through  the  windows  as  they 
rolled  along,  ever  alert  to  catch  any  sign  of  her  adversa- 
ries. 

The  old  tavern  looked,  indeed,  deserted. 

It  needed  but  a  touch  of  moss  or  ivy,  to  suggest  a  ruin, 
for  it  was  not  only  an  ancient  building,  but  sadly  out 
of  repair  as  well. 

After  they  had  passed  beyond  it  a  little  way,  Clara 
signaled  to  Mike  to  stop. 

"I  dare  not  leave  this  place  unguarded  a  moment,"  she 
said;  "there  is  no  telling  when  Poubalov  will  return,  but 
I  must  go  home  for  a  very  short  time,  or  there  will  bo 
anxiety  and  perhaps  search  for  me.  Suppose  you  stay 
here  till  I  come  back.  It  won't  take  me  long  if  I  go  by  car. 
Please,  Michael,  don't  do  anything  rash.  There  was  an- 
other good  fellow,  not  so  sensible  as  you,  poor  man !  who 
tried  to  help  me,  and  he  got  himself  into  dreadful  trouble 
over  it.  This  man,  Poubalov,  is  a  terrible  enemy, 
Michael." 

"Is  he  the  sort  that  carries  a  gun  in  one  pocket  and  a 
razor  in  another?"  asked  Mike  with  perfect  seriousness. 

"He  goes  well  armed,"  replied  Clara,  earnestly,  "and 
he  has  neither  conscience  nor  fear.  You  know  what  I 
want  to  accomplish,  Michael,  but  if  any  life  is  risked  to 
save  another's,  it  must  be  mine.  1  shall  be  very  much  dis- 
pleased if  anything  serious  happens  while  I  am  gone. 
Wait  for  me,  sure." 

"All  right,  miss,  "said  Mike,  resignedly;  "if  anything 
happens  after  you  get  back,  though,  you  bet  I'll  take  a 
hand  in!" 

And  if  there  had  been  any  temptation  for  a  scr  mmage 
during  Clara's  absence,  there  is  no  manner  of  doubt  that 


218  BEHIND  CLOSED  DOORS. 

Mike  would  have  taken  part  in  it-  in  spite  of  her  injunc- 
tions. 

Clara  found  Louise  in  a  very  nervous  condition. 

"I  have  not  heen  so  much  worried  about  you,  d  far, " 
she  said,  "for  I  have  learned  to  feel  confidence  that  you 
can  take  care  of  yourself.  Still  I  am  relieved  to  see  yon 
safe  again.  My  chief  anxiety  is  about  papa.  1  am  afraid 
there  is  something  very  troublesome  in  his  business,  and 
that  he  is  breaking  down  under  the  strain." 

"I  know  that  hie  business  has  been  troubling  him  very 
much  of  late,"  responded  Clara,  "for  he  told  me  so,  and 
any  one  could  see  that  he  is  much  disturbed ;  but  how  lias 
he  shown  it  to-day?  I  didn't  see  him  at  breakfast,  you 
know." 

"No,  he  hurried  to  his  office,  as  he  told  me  later,  to  get. 
some  important  mail.  I  didn't  notice  anything  bejTond  his 
usual  nervous  manner — that  is,  his  recent  manner,  at 
breakfast  time,  but  about  half  an  hour  after  you  had  gone 
he  returned  in  great  haste  and  inquired  for  you.  I  t«»ld 
him  you  had  gone  with  Paul  and  another  man  who  had 
Lrivon  you  a  clew,  and  that  I  couldn't  tell  when  you  would 
return.  He  seemed  very  much  disappointed,  and  walked 
up  and  down  the  room  several  times.  I  asked  him  if  he 
had  any  news  about  Ivan.  He  answered  abruptly:  'I 
think  so.  I  must  see  Clara.' 

Startled  by  hope  and  fear  at  once,  Clara  sank  into  a 
chair. 

"Oh,  dear!"  exclaimed  Louise  in  dismay,  "don't  please 
break  down  now,  for  that  isn't  all,  and  I  am  so  afraid 
you'll  need  all  your  strength  to-day." 

"I  am  strong,"  said  Clara,  resolutely,  but  it  was  all  she 
could  do  to  keep  her  voice  steady ;  "this  day  will  see  the 
end  one  way  or  another,  and  1  am  prepared  for  it." 

"I  begged  papa  to  tell  me  what  he  had  heard,  but  he 
refused  to  do  so,  almost  roughly,  too.  'Tell  her  to  wait 
when  she  comes  in,'  he  said,  and  he  went  out  again.  He 
c.ime  back  at  luncheon  time  looking  dreadfully  excited. 
His  first  words  were  an  inquiry  for  you.  The  perspiration 


BEHIND  CLOSED  DOORS.  219 

rolled  down  his  face  as  he  tried  to  be  calm.  He  couldn't 
eat  or  keep  still.  I  tried  to  soothe  him,  but  he  wouldn't  let 
me.  Then  I  insisted  that  he  tell  me  what  he  had  heard. 
'I  haven't  heard  anything,'  he  answered  excitedly;  'who 
said  I  had?  I  only  surmise.  I  must  see  Clara/  We  both 
supposed  you  would  come  home  to  luncheon,  and  he 
waited  for  you  as  long  as  his  impatience  would  let  him. 
He  went  away  about  fifteen  minutes  ago,  telling  me  again 
to  have  you  wait  for  him.  I  am  dreadfully  alarmed." 

"So  am  I,"  said  Clara  in  a  low  voice.  She  was  begin- 
ning to  feel  a  sense  of  confusion,  and  she  had  to  think 
hard  to  convince  herself  that  she  had  really  left  Paul  on 
guard  at  Bulfinch  Place  and  Michael  in  the  street  near 
the  old  tavern.  It  seemed  to  her  essential  that  she  should 
be  in  both  places,  and  here  at  home  also.  She  had  intended 
to  seek  her  uncle's  assistance  in  any  event,  and  now  he 
was  vainly  looking  for  her  with  some  manner  of  important 
and,  it  seemed  likely,  bad  news. 

"I  am  faint,"  she  added  after  a  moment;  "perhaps  I 
can  think  better  if  I  have  a  cup  of  tea." 

Louise  hastened  to  give  the  orders  to  the  servant,  and 
a  few  minutes  later  Clara  ate  and  drank.  It  was  well 
that  she  thought  of  luncheon,  well  that  she  could  eat,  for 
her  vital  energies  had  been  severely  drawn  on,  and  there 
was  much  more  ahead  of  her  to  do.  After  she  had  refreshed 
herself  she  said : 

"I  cannot  wait  for  uncle.  I  don't  know  what  is  the  most 
important  thing  to  do,  but  I  feel  that  I  must  not  wait 
here.  I  will  send  Michael,  the  cabman,  back.  Please  see 
that  he  has  luncheon,  and  keep  him  here  until  uncle 
returns.  Then  send  him  for  me.  He  will  know  where  to 
find  me,  and  I  promise  to  come  home  at  once  unless — 
Well,  send  him  to  me,  and  I  will  return  if  I  can." 

Louise  was  tearful  at  Clara's  departure,  but  she  did  not 
try  to  detain  her.  It  would  have  done  no  good,  and  she 
knew  it. 

When  Clara  found  Mike  faithfully  on  guard  just  where 
she  had  left  him,  she  told  him  her  programme,  and 


220  BEHIND  CLOSED  DOORS. 

together  they  hunted  for  a  place  from  which  she  could 
keep  her  eyes  on  the  old  tavern,  unobserved  by  Poubalov, 
should  he  return. 

They  found  it  in  the  sitting-room  of  a  house  across  the 
way,  the  mistress  of  which,  a  plain,  practical  woman  who 
knew  the  woes  of  economy,  was  not  averse  to  renting 
for  a  few  hours  the  apartment  she  seldom  had  time  to  use, 
and  never  on  a  Monday. 

This  done,  Mike  drove  to  Mr.  Pembroke's  and  hitched 
his  horse  at  the  gate,  with  its  nose  in  a  feed-bag.  The 
young  man  made  short  work  of  the  luncheon  Louise  had 
prepared  for  him,  and  then  promptly  fell  asleep  over  the 
book  she  gave  him  to  while  away  time  with. 

No  good  end  will  be  served  by  reviewing  the  lonely 
hours  of  Clara's  vigil.     It  was  with  her,  as  with  Paul,  a 
monotonous  period,  far  harder  to  endure,  in  some  sen 
than  the  exciting  and  exacting  experiences  of  the   fore- 
noon. 

It  will  be  enough,  then,  to  say  that  when  Mike  came  in 
the  edge  of  the  evening  to  tell  her  that  her  uncle  was  at 
home,  she  had  seen  no  sign  of  Poubalov  or  Patterson, 
or  of  life  in  the  ancient  tavern. 

Reluctantly  she  quitted  her  post,  because  nothing  kid 
happened,  willingly  because  she  hoped  for  definite  infor- 
mation of  some  kind  from  her  uncle.  The  coupe"  was  at 
the  door. 

"  Will  you  want  me  longer,  miss?"  asked  Mike  as  she 
came  out,  prepared  to  go  home. 

"I  suppose  you  ought  to  go, "  answered  Clara,  doubt- 
fully. 

"I  dunno,"  said  Mike,  in  the  same  manner;  "me  boss 
will  be  wonderin'  what's  become  of  the  rig." 

The  long  day,  spent  so  far  as  he  could  see  to  no  purpose, 
had  tried  him,  and  yet,  had  Clara  said  the  word  he  would 
have  remained  in  one  spot  through  the  night.  Clara  did 
not  say  it. 

She,  too,  was  fatigued,  not  more  with  the  exertion  of  the 


BEHIND  CLOSED  DOORS.  221 

jrst  half  of  the  day  than  with  the  tedious  watching  of 
she  second. 

"You  may  drive  me  home,"  she  said  wearily;  "and  if 
your  employer  will  let  you.  you  might  come  back  in  an 
hour  or  two  to  see  if  I  need  you." 

Mike,  therefore,  drove  away,  when  he  had  left  Clara  at 
Mr.  Pembroke's  gate. 

She  went  up  to  the  house,  and  Louise  met  her  at  the 
door  with  a  white,  frightened  face. 

"Papa  is  worse  than  ever,"  she  whispered;  "go  to  him 
at  once.  He  is  in  the  library. ' ' 

Clara  opened  the  door  and  went  in. 

Her  uncle  sat  at  the  table,  with  his  arms  and  head  upon 
it,  and  he  did  not  look  up  until  she  touched  him  and  spoke 
to  him. 

"I  am  sorry,  uncle  dear,"  she  said,  "that  I  was  not  at 
home  when  you  wanted  me." 

He  raised  his  head  with  a  groan. 

"It  doesn't  matter,"  he  responded;  "you  could  have 
done  nothing,  as  it  has  happened." 

"Didn't  you  have  some  news  for  me,  uncle?  Tell  me;  I 
can  endure  anything." 

He  tried  to  look  at  her,  but  a  violent  fit  of  trembling 
seized  him  and  he  averted  his  eyes. 

"I  thought  there  was  going  to  be  news,  good  news,"  he 
stammered,  l'but "  and  he  shook  his  head  sorrow- 
fully. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  have  been  disappointed,  uncle?" 

"Disappointed!"  he  repeated  excitedly ;  "worse!  All  is 
lost,  Clara,  lost!  Oh!  that  wily  Russian!" 

"What  Russian,  uncle?    In  mercy's  name,  tell  me!" 

"Your  man  Poubalov!  He  is "  Mr  Pembroke's 

words  stuck  in  his  throat  and  he  looked  at  Clara  with 
watery  eyes. 

"You  have  seen  him  then,"  she  whispered  faintly. 

Mr.  Pembroke  nodded. 

"And  you  have  nothing  to  tell  me?" 

Her  uncle  opened  his  lips,  tried  to  speak,  and  failing, 


222  BEHIND  CLOSED  DOORS. 

grasped  the  table  with   both   hands  while  his  eyes  fixed 
themselves  in  a  stare  and  his  face  grew  livid. 

Clara  ran  to  the  sidehoard  in  the  dining-room  and 
brought  him  a  glass  of  brandy. 

She  poured  a  quantity  down  his  throat  till  he  gasped 
•with  pain. 

The  spasm  passed,  but  left  him  weak,  well-nigh  help- 
less, and  Clara  summoned  the  servant  to  take  him  to  his 
room. 

A  neighboring  physician  was  called  in,  and  after  half  an 
Lour  or  so  he  reported  that  Mr.  Pembroke  was  in  no 
immediate  danger. 

Clara  wished  to  see  him,  not,  however,  to  torment 
him  with  questions,  but  the  physician  advised  that  he 
be  left  alone,  with  merely  a  servant,  or  Louise  at  hand 
to  attend  to  his  needs. 

"I  am  pretty  certain, "  added  the  doctor,  "that  your 
presence  would  irritate  him." 

Clara  withdrew  to  the  drawing-room  and  tried  to  collect 
her  thoughts.  She  had  not  heard  from  Paul  and  it  was 
now  eight  o'clock.  It  could  not  be  that  nothing  had  hap- 
penod  during  the  long  afternoon.  Something  surely  had 
occurred,  and  that  through  Poubalov,  to  prostrate  her 

uncle Ah !  she  could  not  sit  still.    Her  programme  had 

not  been  fully  performed.     She  was  useless   here,    in   thr 
way,  the  doctor  had  said  that  plainly  enough.    The  ta\ 
must   be  searched   to-night,  and  if  Paul  were  not  there  to 
help,  she  must  do  without  him. 

Shu  said  nothing  to  Louise,  or  the  servants.  In  thn 
kitchen  she  found  a  caudlo  and  a  box  of  matches.  There 
and  elsewhere  about  the  house  were  keys  of  various 
descriptions.  She  took  every  one  she  could  lay  her  hands 
on,  and  thus  provided,  set  forth  alone. 

It  was  a  very  quiet,  retired  street,  on  which  the  tavern 
stood.  Once  it  had  been  a  main  road,  but  traffic  had  long 
since  been  diverted  into  other  channels.  She  saw  nobody 
as  she  approached  the  gloomy  structure  with  its  overhang- 
ing porch,  and  few  lights  were  in  the  windows  of  adjacent 


BEHIND  CLOSED  DOOES.  223 

houses.  Under  the  porch  she  paused  a  moment  in  the 
effort  to  still  the  beating  of  her  heart.  Then,  instead  of 
making  any  attempt  to  pass  through  the  front  door,  she 
went  around  to  the  driveway  that  Paul  had  described,  and 
came  to  an  entrance  at  the  very  back  of  the  tavern.  She 
placed,  a  trembling  hand  upon  the  knob  and  sought  to 
insert  a  key  in  the  lock — but  the  door  was  opening  before 
her !  It  was  not  only  not  locked,  it  had  not  been  latched, 
and  the  pressure  of  her  hand  had  set  it  ajar. 

With  unsteady  step  and  with  her  mind  bewildered  by 
grewsome  conjectures,  Clara  entered.  She  closed  the  door 
behind  her  and  lit  the  candle.  Had  Poiibalov,  then, 
returned  when  she  had  weakly  given  up  the  watching,  and 
abducted  Ivan  a  second  time?  "What  did  her  uncle's  words 

mean?  "All  is  lost!"  Was  Ivan She  did  not  permit 

herself  to  frame  the  thought  completely,  but  gathering  all 
her  resolution  set  forth  to  accomplish  her  task.  Not  even 
indulging  in  a  useless  regret  that  Paul  was  not  with  her, 
she  looked  about  the  room  in  which  she  stood.  It  had  once 
been  a  kitchen,  and  a  glance  at  it  was  enough.  An  open 
door  was  before  her  and  she  passed  through  it. 

This  was  evidently  the  dining-room,  and  several  doors 
were  in  view,  only  one  of  which  was  open.  Feeling  that 
this  indicated  the  course  taken  by  Poubalov  in  carrying 
Ivan  out  of  the  house  from  the  room  where  he  had  been 
confined,  she  pushed  on,  and  passing  through  this  door, 
found  herself  in  the  front  hall.  There  was  a  stairway  at 
her  right  hand,  and  doors  at  both  right  and  left.  Whither 
should  she  go?  The  doors  were  closed  and  she  chose  the 
stairs. 

At  the  top  were  two  corridors  as  well  as  the  passage 
leading  to  another  flight  of  stairs.  Haphazard  she  pro- 
ceeded along  the  corridor  to  the  left.  It  was  tortuous,  like 
all  hotel  passages,  and  the  floor  was  broken  here  and  there 
by  steps,  now  up,  now  down.  She  passed  many  doors,  but 
all  were  closed.  At  the  very  end  were  two  doors,  almost 
3ide  by  side,  and  as  she  stood  hesitant,  her  blood  chilled 
and  her  heart  leaped  to  her  throat 


BEHIND  CLOSED  DOORS. 

Was  that  a  groan  that  she  had  heard  behind  one  of  those 
doors? 

Utterly  unable  to  move,  she  listened  with  painful  intent- 
ness.  Yes — again  it  came,  muffled,  feeble,  inarticulate, 
but  unmistakably  the  sound  of  a  human  voice.  In  her 
agony  of  apprehension  Clara  found  herself  halting,  from  a 
strange  inability  to  decide  which  door  to  open. 


POUBALOV  SUCCEEDS.  225 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

POUBALOV  SUCCEEDS. 

» 

Her  indecision  was  but  momentary!  Every  nerve  ting- 
ling with  apprehension,  her  arms  straining  to  embrace 
her  lover  and  allay  his  suffering,  she  threw  open  the  door 
at  her  right  hand.  Dusty  furniture,  faded  hangings  con- 
fronted her,  nothing  else.  Aroused  by  the  disappointment 
to  a  fever  of  anxiety  and  energy,  she  laid  her  hand  upon 
the  other  door,  and  above  the  rattling  of  the  knob  she 
heard  again  the  faint  moan.  The  door  was  locked,  and  it 
merely  creaked  complainingly  when  she  exerted  all  the 
pressure  she  could  bring  to  bear  against  it. 

She  must  work  quickly.  Holding  the  candle  parallel  to 
the  floor,  she  allowed  several  drops  of  the  melted  tallow 
to  fall,  and  on  them  she  fastened  her  tiny  torch  upright. 
Then  she  applied  her  keys,  one  after  the  other,  to  the 
lock.  It  was  a  commonplace  lock,  a  boot-buttoner  would 
have  worked  it,  and  the  most  commonplace  key  in  her 
collection  at  last  turned  freely  and  shot  back  the  bolt, 
She  threw  the  door  open  and  rushed  in,  and  as  she  passed, 
her  flying  skirts  whisked  out  the  candle  flame  and  she 
was  in  darkness,  but  in  the  flashing  glance  she  had  had  of 
the  room  she  had  seen  the  figure  of  a  man  bound  to  a  chair, 
a  cloth  wound  about  his  head  and  across  his  mouth. 

Clara  did  not  seek  the  prisoner  in  the  darkness.  All 
impulse  to  rush  forward  and  throw  her  arms  about 
him  had  vanished ;  in  its  place  was  an  icy  chill  at  the 
heart  and  an  infinite  sob  that  lodged  in  her  throat  and 
would  not  out.  Hastily  still  but  with  nerveless  limbs  she 
stooped  and  felt  for  the  candle,  and,  having  found  it,  she 
again  brought  its  wick  to  flickering  life  and  raised  it  from 
the  floor.  Standing  then  upon  the  threshold,  one  hand 


226  POUBALOV  SUCCEEDS. 

clutching  the  jamb,  she  made  certain  that  the  fleeting 
vision  of  surprise  and  disappointment  was  bitter  and 
amazing  reality.  The  man  bound  upon  the  chair  was  old 
Dexter. 

He  turned  upon  her  his  blinking  eyes,  rendered  sight- 
less for  the  moment  by  the  mild  glare  of  the  candle  flame. 
He  could  stir  no  other  part  of  his  body  by  so  much  as  a 
hair's  breadth.  A  long  rope  was  coiled  many  times  about 
him,  binding  his  legs  to  the  chair  rungs,  his  arms  to  his 
side,  and  his  head  to  the  back  of  the  chair.  A  pitiful 
groan  gurgled  again  in  his  throat  as  Clara  held  up  the 
candid  and  looked  at  him. 

She  stood  thus  not  longer  than  a  second,  and  then,  hav- 
ing placed  the  candle  in  a  cup  that  stood  on  the  mantel, 
she  sought  to  loose  him.     That  he  was  concerned  in  s< 
way  with  Ivan's  disappearance  she  could  not  doubt,  but 
she  allowed  herself    no   thought   or  hesitation  on  that 
account.     His  evident  suffering  appealed  to  her,  and 
plied  her  fingers  hard  and  faat  to  undo  the  rope.    The 
knot  was  at  hia  back  and  it  had  not  been  drawn  oxnvnu-ly 
taut,  the  numerous  coils  in  themselves  being  almost  suffi- 
cient to  hold  the  prisoner  in  his  place.     Very  shortly, 
therefore,  she  had  the  free  ends  of  the  rope  in  hand, 
she  unwound  them   from   Dextor's  arms,  still  standing 
behind  his  back   and  working  above  his  head.     \V 
with  his  own  hands  he  began  to  loose  the  coils  In  m   his 
lower  limbs,  she  untied  the  handkerchief  that  held  the  gag 
in  his  mouth,  and  Dexter  was  free. 

He  arose  trembling.  His  limbs  were  stiff  with  long  con- 
st raint  and  he  steadied  himself  by  grasping  the  back  of  the 
chair  and  leaning  upon  it.  Breathing  heavily  and  mut- 
tering unintelligible  curses  he  turned  slowly  about  and 
peered  into  Clara's  eyes. 

"Ha!"  he  gasped,  "it's  you,  is  it!" 

His  eyes,  till  then  glowing  with  the  rage  of  a  baffled 
will,  now  flamed  with  ungovernable  hate.  Clara,  all  lu-r 
resolution  gone,  her  very  life  seeming  to  depart  from  her, 
yet  stood  ready  to  do  what  she  could  to  help  him,  when 


POUBALOV  SUCCEEDS.  227 

with  a  passionate  shriek  he  suddenly  extended  his  thin 
quivering  hands  and  seized  her  violently  hy  the  throat. 
Taken  by  surprise,  her  nervous  energy  exhausted  by  the 
long  strain  and  its  attendant  disappointments,  Clara 
made  but  slight  resistance.  Dexter  clutched  her  with  the 
desperate  strength  of  a  maniao  and  pushed  her  back 
against  the  wall. 

What  with  the  noise  they  made  in  moving  across  tha 
floor,  and  Dexter's  snarling  curses,  she  did  not  hear  the 
sound  of  rapidly  approaching  steps  along  the  corridor ; 
but  just  as  the  frenzied  old  man  had  pressed  her  against 
the  wall,  and  when  it  seemed  as  if  his  fingers  would  lock 
inextricably  upon  her  throat,  Poubalov  dashed  into  the 
room,  laid  hold  of  Dexter,  wrenched  him  away  from  her, 
picked  him  up  bodily,  bore  him  screaming  across  the 
chamber  and  threw  him  heavily  upon  a  bed.  Then  he 
placed  his  hand  over  the  old  man's  mouth  and  looked 
around.  Clara  was  now  held  hard  and  fast  by  another 
man,  and  although  Poubalov 's  eyes  glittered  with  a  fierce 
light,  he  made  no  effort  to  interfere.  Paul  Palovna 
appeared  in  the  doorway,  his  weary  face  glowing  with  joy 
as  he  looked  upon  his  friend  restored  at  last  to  the  arms 

of  her  who  loved  him. 

After  a  moment  Strobel  raised  his  head,  and  Clara,  still 
embracing  him,  followed  his  eyes  with  her  own,  almost 
unbelieving  that  this  meeting  was  reality,  She  turned  her 
gaze  with  Ivan's  to  where  Poubalov  sat  on  the  bed  forci- 
bly quieting  the  ravings  of  old  Dexter. 

"Miss  Hilman,"  said  the  spy  in  his  deepest  tones,  "you 
have  been  the  hardest  adversary  I  ever  encountered.  Last 
evening  you  gave  me  two  alternatives  of  action.  You 
told  me  to  take  you  to  your  lover,  or  you  would 
pursue  me  relentlessly.  You  have  made  it  a  desperately 
hard  task  for  me,  but  to  some  extent  at  least  I  have 
succeeded  in  evading  both  alternatives,  and  have,  instead, 
brought  your  lover  to  you." 

Clara  turned  her  wondering  eyes  to  Ivan's  for  confirma- 
tion and  explanation. 


228  POUBALOV  SUCCEEDS. 

"It  is  true,  dearest,"  he  said.  "We  owe  my  deliverance 
to  Poubalov,  and  without  his  efforts  1  shudder  to  think 
what  would  have  happened  to  me." 

41  Is  it  possible,"  asked  Clara  in  a  subdued  voice,  "that 
you  have  really  been  trying  to  find  Ivan  all  along?" 

"Miss  Hilman, "  replied  Poubalov,  "until  this  Monday 
morning  I  did  not  know  where  Mr.  Strobel  was,  and  I  had 
not  the  least  suspicion  of  the  truth  until  late  last  Friday 
night." 

"Let  me  sit  down,"  said  Clara  faintly,  "I  cannot  grasp 
it  all.  Tell  me,  Ivan." 

Ivan  had  conducted  her  to  the  chair  wherein  she  had 
found  Dexter  a  prisoner,  and  at  her  last  words  Poubalov 
turned  away  his  head  with  a  bitter  smile.  Not  even  yet 
would  she  trust  him  to  speak  the  truth ! 

"We  owe  our  separation,"  said  Ivan,  "to  the  villain  who 
lies  there  under  Poubalov 's  hand  and  to  him  alone.  To 
Poubalov  we  owe  the  deliverance.  This  man  Dexter,  Clara, 
is  a  money  lender  of  the  most  outrageous  type.  Your 
uncle,  to  tide  over  a  business  depression,  borrowed  nearly 
a  hundred  thousand  dollars  from  him.  This  debt  was  due 
to  Dexter  two  days  after  what  was  to  have  been  our  wed- 
ding. I  am  telling  you  what  Poubalov  learned  after  his 
suspicions  were  attracted  in  the  right  direction.  Tell  her, 
my  friend !  You  can  do  it  better  than  I." 

"Miss  Hilman  will  not  believe  me,"  replied  Poubalov. 

"Oh,  but  I  will!"  cried  Clara  starting  from  the  chair 
impulsively  as  she  realized  the  situation.  She  went  to 
the  bed  where  the  spy  still  sat  with  his  hand  over  Dex- 
ter 'a  mouth,  and  hold  out  her  hand.  "Won't  you  forgive 
me?"  she  faltered;  "I  know  I  have  cruelly  misjudged 


you/ 


Poubalov  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips  and  was  about  to 
answer  when  Dexter,  the  pressure  removed  from  his 
month,  scrambled  to  his  knees,  clinging  to  the  Russian 
for  support,  and  screamed,  "Pay  me!  pay  me!  you're  not 
married  yet  and  you've  got  to  pay  me!  I'll  ruin  Mat  Pem- 
broke! Pay  me!  I'll " 


POUBALOV  SUCCEEDS.  229 

The  old  man  choked,  pawed  with  both  palsied  hands  at 
his  collar  and  would  have  fallen  from  the  bed  if  Poubalov 
had  not  turned  hastily  from  Clara  and  caught  him.  Clara 
shrank  away,  not  terrified  but  shocked  at  Dexter's  appear- 
ance, while  Palovna  hurried  across  the  room  to  lend  a 
hand. 

"He  is  dying!"  exclaimed  Clara  faintly. 

"No,  Miss  Hilman,  not  dying,"  responded  Poubalov 
quickly,  "but  he  is  a  very  sick  man.  Thanks,  Paul 
Palovna,  but  I  can  get  on  better  with  him  alone.  You  may 
go  ahead  of  me,  if  you  please,  and  try  to  find  a  physi- 
cian  " 

"I  saw  a  doctor's  sign  near  the  street  corner, "  inter- 
rupted Palovna. 

"Summon  him  at  once,  then,"  said  Poubalov  who  was 
bearing  old  Dexter  as  tenderly  as  a  nurse  might  carry  a 
sick  child;  "I  will  await  you  at  the  door  and,"  addressing 
Clara,  "be  with  you  here  in  a  moment  if  you  would  hear 
the  hidden  history  of  your  troubles." 

"Better  here,  sweetheart,"  whispered  Strobel,  "here 
where  I  passed  my  week  of  death  than  in  any  other 
place!" 

It  was  several  minutes  before  Poubalov  returned.  He 
carried  Dexter  not  only  to  the  door  but  through  the  street 
to  the  physician's  house  where  medical  skill  was  promptly 
applied  with  a  view  to  restoring  the  miser's  wreck  of  a 
body  to  something  like  life.  If  Dexter's  course  had  run 
tranquilly  he  might,  perhaps,  have  lingered  like  a  noxious 
weed,  for  a  long  time  upon  the  earth,  but  after  the  com- 
plex shocks  of  disappointment,  imprisonment  and  fear, 
he  had  thrown  the  total  of  his  nervous  and  physical  ener- 
gies into  that  mad  attack  upon  Clara.  There  remained, 
then,  but  the  dregs  of  his  vicious  vitality,  and  these 
sustained  him  less  than  the  length  of  the  night.  He  was 
still  alive  but  the  end  was  plainly  in  sight  when  Poubalov 
left  him  to  rejoin  the  lovers. 

"Miss  Hilman,"  he  said  the  moment  he  eame  in,  "yonr 
judgment  of  me  has  been  marvellously  correct,  It  is  truej 


230  POUBALOV  SUCCEEDS. 

that  you  have  erred  in  detail  and  believed  me  deceiving 
you  when  I  was  doing  my  utmost  to  put  the  truth  before 
you ;  but  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  be  straightforward. 
Mr.  Strobelhas  said  that  his  deliverance  is  due  to  me;  that 
is  true,  but  no  credit  is  due  me  for  generosity  or  nobility 
of  conduct.  What  I  have  done  in  the  way  of  searching 
for  him  and  restoring  him  to  liberty,  has  been  done 
entirely  in  accordance  with  my  nature.  My  desire  to 
appear  well  in  your  eyes  might  lead  me  to  vain  reflections 
on  what  my  nature  might  have  been  if  the  circumstances 
of  my  life  had  been  other  than  they  wore,  but  past  cir- 
cumstances cannot  be  changed  and  nothing  can  pallia  to  the 
fact  that  long  practice  as  a  detector  of  stealthy  criminals 
has  made  me  habitually  devious  in  my  methods." 

"Mr.  Poubalov,"  Clara  began  gently,  but  the  Russian 
would  not  let  her  utter  the  deprecating  words  that  were 
on  her  lips. 

"1  could  not  change  my  methods,"  he  said,  "and  more- 
over, there  were  circumstances  connected  \\ith  this  mat- 
ter that  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  take  you  fully  into 
my  confidence.  Don't  you  recall  how  I  refused  to  answer, 
or  evaded  your  questions?  I  would  not  lie  to  you,  and  I 
could  not  tell  you  the  truth,  for  I  was  charged  with  a 
message  from  the  czar  to  Mr.  Strobel  and  to  none  other 
could  I  give  it,  and  not  to  him  unless  I  were  satisfied  of 
certain  things,  which,  until  Litizki's  attempt  upon  my 
life  were  in  doubt." 

"You  must  have  suffered  keenly,"  said  Clara  softly; 
"tell  me  all  now  if  you  can." 

"His  imperial  majesty,  whom  God  preserve, "  resumed 
Poubalov,  "saw  fit  to  effect  a  complete  restoration  of  the 
estates  of  the  Strobel  family,  which  had  been  confiscated 
on  account  of  supposed  treason,  and  to  recall  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  family  from  exile.  There  was  but  one  doubt  in 
his  august  mind,  and  that  related  to  your  lover,  Ivan.  If 
he  were  engaged  in  sending  pernicious  literature  to  Rus- 
sia, or  in  any  other  way  fomenting  the  discontent  that 
affects  some  of  our  people,  the  decree  of  restoration  could 


POUBALOV  SUCCEEDS.  231 

not  issue.  I  came  to  America  solely  to  discover  what  Ivan 
Strobel  was  doing  and  thinking.  I  could  not  leave  the 
country  until  I  had  found  him  unless  I  chose  to  disregard 
the  wishes  of  my  sovereign.  Therefore,  when  he  disap- 
peared, 1  bent  every  energy  to  finding  him.  It  is  the  habit 
of  men  like  Litizki  to  invest  me  in  their  imaginations 
with  extraordinary  if  not  superhuman  powers,  and  it  is  a 
part  of  my  policy  to  encourage  their  delusion.  But  I  am 
only  an  ordinary  man,  Miss  Hilman,  and  in  your  hands  I 
have  proved  to  be  as  weak  as  the  weakest." 

He  paused  and  looked  somberly  at  the  floor. 

"I  have  been  sadly  puzzled  by  this  case,"  he  continued 
after  a  moment  without  raising  his  eyes;  "nothing  ever 
seemed  so  impenetrable  a  mystery.  I  was  sincere  in 
thinking  the  Nihilists  had  had  something  to  do  with  it. 
After  seeing  you  I  was  certain  that  no  other  woman  could 
have  lead  Strobel  away ;  but  I  went  to  New  York  for 
much  the  same  reason  that  you  did,  I  suppose,  hoping  for 
some  clew.  1  had  about  given  up  the  Nihilistic  theory 
when  Litizki's  assault  and  some  inquiries  I  made  shortly 
after,  set  that  at  rest  completely.  When  Billings  called  a^ 
your  house  I  determined  to  track  him.  Why  not  tell  you 
then  about  it?  Ask  yourself  if  you  would  have  believed 
me.  You  would  have  said  that  I  was  already  in  league 
with  Billings." 

"I  did  think  so,"  murmured  Clara  guiltily. 

"And  I  presume  you  thought  I  was  afraid  to  face  him. 
Yes?  Then  you  see  now  that  I  had  to  operate  alone.  I 
was  hiding  in  the  shrubbery  when  he  left  your  house.  It 
was  dark,  but  you  lingered  at  the  gate  and  so  prevented 
me  from  leaving  my  place  of  concealment  until  Billings 
had  got  so  far  away  that  I  could  not  find  him.  But  I  had 
seen  his  face.  I  readily  saw  that  Litizki  was  following  me 
that  night  and  I  purposely  gave  him  a  chase  in  order  to 
mask  my  real  purpose. 

"When  we  left  the  train  in  the  Park  Square  Station 
after  our  return  from  New  York  on  Friday  evening,  I  recog- 
nized Billings  among  those  upon  the  station  platform.  I 


232  POUBALO V  SUCCEEDS. 

left  you  abruptly  to  follow  him.     He  waited  for  the   i 
New   York  train  which   followed   us   in  direct ly,  for 
were  late,  you  remember,  and  there  met  the  wretch  w: 
you   found   imprisoned  here.     I  will   not  enter   into 
details  of  my  all-night  watching  and  inquiring,  but  will 
confine  myself  to  the  results.     First,  to  jump  over  sov 
steps,  I  found  that  Dexter  was  going  to  pack  Billings   off 
to  Europe,  and  I  followed  to  the  steamer,  hoping  for  a 
chance  to  speak  with  Billings,  for  I  can   usually  worm   or 
frighten  secrets  from  guilty  men.    Dexter  stuck  clo- 
to  him,  however,  and   I  returned   from   a   trip  to  Bo- 
Light  having  seen  both  Billings  and  Litizki  in  the  st 
age." 

"Litizki!"  exclaimed  Clara. 

44 Yes.  By  tracking  Dexter  and  employing  my  usual 
methods,  I  got  acquainted  with  his  man,  Patterson.  It 
was  he  who  overcame  Mr.  Strobel  in  the  closed  carriage  a 
week  ago  to-day,  and  who  left  him  tin  TO  bound  and 
pofied  by  a  drug  that  ho  had  forced  down  his  thoat  while 
he  went  through  tin-  Park  Square  Station  to  give  color  to 
the  theory  that  Dexter  gave  to  the  police  that  Strobrl  had 
gone  to  New  York.  Dexter  at  first  declared  that  he  had 
seen  Strobel  buy  his  tirkrt,  but  later  he  weakend  on  that 
point,  saying  he  might  have  been  mistaken.  He  had  e 
enough  for  Detective  Bowker,  however,  and  the  police 
investigation  wa*  pursued  half  heartedly. 

"Well,  I  looked  up  Dexter's  affairs  and  I  found  that  he 
had  a  grip  on  Mr.  Pembroke." 

"Don't  tell  mo  my  uncle  was  guilty  of " 

"No,  Miss  Hilman,"  interrupted  Poubalov,  "Mr.  Pem- 
broke had  nothing  to  do  with  the  abduction  of  Mr.  Strobel. 
Dexter  is  the  one  villain  in  the  case,  and  although  Mr. 
Pembroke's  conduct  may  be  open  to  question  in  one  re- 
spect, criticism  would  be  finical  for  I  don't  see  how  he 
could  have  acted  otherwise.  I  shall  have  to  go  back  a  long 
way  now,  but  I  will  be  brief.  Matthew  Pembroke  had  a 
brother,  Charles,  and  a  sister,  Sophie.  You,  Miss  Hilman, 
are  her  daughter.  You  know,  of  course,  the  family  differ- 


PO UBALOV  SUCCEEDS.  233 

ence  and  the  occasion  of  it.  Your  mother  married  against 
the  wishes  of  your  Uncle  Charles,  her  elder  brother  and 
her  guardian,  and  when  she  was  left  a  widow  he  declined 
to  help  her.  You  Uncle  Matthew  was  kinder,  and  when 
she  died  he  took  you  into  his  own  home.  Charles  was 
apparently  relentless  to  the  end,  and  there  was  never  any 
communication  between  you  and  him ;  but  when  he  died, 
a  short  time  ago,  it  was  found  that  he  had  remembered 
you  in  his  will.  Two  days  before  the  wedding  day  Mr. 
Pembroke  was  notified  that  you  were  heiress  to  one 
hundred  thousand  dollars  if  you  were  unmarried,  The 
will  provided  that  in  the  event  of  your  being  a  maiden, 
the  entire  sum  was  to  be  held  by  Matthew  Pembroke,  and 
administered  by  him  in  your  interest.  If  you  were  mar- 
ried, twenty-five  thousand  dollars  was  to  be  set  aside  for 
you,  and  the  balance  was  to  go  to  educational  institutions 
specifically  named. 

"Mr.  Pembroke  was  worrying  about  his  obligation  to 
Dexter,  which  he  could  not  meet,  and  in  his  fretting  he 
mentioned  this  to  Dexter.  He  did  not  tell  you  at  first, 
because  he  feared  you  might  think  you  ought  to  postpone 
your  wedding,  and  he  did  not  regard  such  etiquette  as 
necessary.  Without  saying  a  word  to  Pembroke,  this 
wretch,  Dexter,  plotted  and  effected  the  abduction,  thus 
compelling  you  to  remain  a  maiden.  The  bequest  was 
immediately  available  and  he  brought  all  possible  pres- 
sure to  bear  upon  Mr.  Pembroke  to  make  use  of  it  for  wip- 
ing out  the  debt.  It  was  absolute  ruin  to  him  if  he  did 
not.  Mr.  Pembroke  suspected  Dexter,  but  what  could  he 
do?  He  had  nothing  but  improbable  conjecture  to  work 
upon,  and  Dexter  applied  the  screws  mercilessly.  They 
went  to  New  York  to  make  arrangements  for  collecting  the 
inheritance.  While  there  they  were  both  in  terror  lest 
you  discover  the  truth,  for  once  at  least  you  saw  them 
with  the  man  who  could  have  revealed  the  financial  secret 
of  the  situation.  You  remember  looking  in  at  the  hotel 
entrance  and  seeing  Dexter,  your  uncle  and  a  third  man 
walking  in  the  corridor?  The  third  man  was  the  executor 


234  POUBALOV  SUCCEEDS. 

of  your  Uncle  Charles'  estate,  and  Dexter  walked  him  out 
of  your  sight  as  quickly  as  possible,  lest  troublesome 
questions  should  be  asked. 

"It  all  came  down  to  this,  at  last,  that  with  your  signa- 
ture to-day  to  a  document  that  the  executors  of  the  estate 
had  prepared,  and  which  you  would  have  signed  readily 
at  your  uncle's  request,  the  money  would  have  been 
turned  over.  The  document  came  in  the  first  mail,  but 
Dexter  did  not  turn  up,  and  Mr.  Pembroke  could  not  find 
him.  That  was  because,  shortly  after  breakfast,  I  came 
here  and  found  the  villain,  at  last,  giving  Strobel  sufficient 
nourishment  to  keep  him  alive.  I  bound  him  to  the  chair, 
but  didn't  release  Strobel  at  the  moment.  After  a  mental 
struggle  that  I  will  not  describe,  I  had  determined  to 
take  him  to  you,  Miss  Hilman,  and  I  was  too  proud  to 
permit  my  plans  to  be  balked.  Moreover,  I  believed  your 
uncle  guilty,  and  I  was  determined  that  everybody  who 
had  been  concerned  in  making  you  unhappy,  should 
suffer  the  most  extreme  tortures  that  I  could  inflict.  I 
had  already  bought  and  frightened  Patterson.  It  was 
through  him  that  I  discoverd  this  placee,  a  hotel  Dexter 
had  seized  for  debt.  After  I  had  succeeded  in  eluding 
your  pursuit  this  morning,  I  attacked  Mr.  Pembroke.  I 
spent  nearly  the  whole  afternoon  with  him,  and,  to  be 
brief,  I  got  the  story  from  him  and  drove  him  to  the 
verge  of  insanity.  He  does  not  know  yet  what  happened 
to  Strobel,  although  he  is  aware  that  he  is  safe. 

"Having  thus  punished  Mr.  Pembroke,  unjustly  I  will 
admit,  to  some  extent,  I  came  here  and  took  away  Strobel. 
He  was  very  weak  and  suffering  from  the  drug  which 
had  frequently  been  administered  to  him  with  his  food.  I 
am  familiar  with  such  matters,  and  I  had  in  my  room  an 
antidote.  By  your  attempted  pursuit  of  me  you  had  pre- 
vented me  from  going  there  to  get  it,  so  I  had  to  take  Stro- 
bel with  me  to  Bulfinch  Place  before  restoring  him  to  you. 

We  had  a  little  scene  at  the  lodging-house "  Poubalov 

paused  here  and  glanced  with  a  smile  at  Palovna. 

"Is     it    any    wonder,    Alexander    Poubalov?"      cried 


POUBALOV  SUCCEEDS.  235 

Palovna,  flushing;  "I  regarded  you  as  our  enemy,  and 
when  I  saw  you  with  Strobel  helpless  in  your  possession, 
my  worst  suspicions  were  confirmed.  I " 

"You  could  have  shot  me  with  a  clear  conscience!  I  un- 
derstand and  I  understood  then.  You  are  a  loyal  friend, 
Paul  Palovna,  and  I  owe  you  my  life,  not  on  this  occa- 
sion, perhaps,  but  at  that  other  time — no  matter!  The 
past  is  past  and  things  are  as  they  are !  The  short  of  it  is, 
Miss  Hilman,  that  we  satisfied  Palovna  that  matters  were 
not  as  bad  as  they  looked,  and,  as  you  see,  he  came  along 
with  us.  We  went  to  Mr.  Pembroke's.  As  you  were  not 
there,  we  came  directly  here.  And  that,  I  think,  is  the 
whole  story." 

Clara  was  weeping  silently,  and  Ivan  stood  with  his 
arm  around  her.  There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  and 
then  the  party  was  disturbed  by  a  hubbub  in  the  hall 
below.  It  proved  to  be  nothing  serious.  Mike  had  been 
ordered  by  his  employer  to  return.  He,  too,  had  called  at 
Mr.  Pembroke's  and  so  found  his  way  to  the  tavern,  and 
coming  upon  Patterson  he  had  proceeded  to  thump  him. 
Poubalov  separated  the  antagonists,  and  went  back  to  the 
chamber  with  the  candle.  The  others  stood  under  the 
porch,  for  the  front  door  had  been  opened  by  Patterson, 
until  he  returned. 

"If  there  is  anything  more  to  be  said, "  he  remarked, 
"we'd  better  go  to  Mr.  Pembroke's." 

Poubalov  did  not  remain  long  with  the  lovers  whom  he 
had  reunited.  The  supreme  will  of  his  imperial  majesty, 
he  gravely  declared,  would  not  permit  of  his  lingering  a 
moment  after  the  accomplishment  of  his  mission.  It 
would  give  him  profound  pleasure  to  report  that  Mr.  Stro- 
bel was  too  firmly  attached  to  America  to  feel,  much  less 
commit  hostility  to  the  empire  of  the  czar.  And  so  he 
took  his  leave,  Clara  alone  realizing  that  all  well-meant 
efforts  to  detain  him  were  calculated  to  give  him  needless 
pain. 

Mr.  Pembroke  recovered  rapidly  under  the  relief  occa- 
sioned by  the  reappearance  of  Ivan,  for  whose  absence 


POUBALol    SUCCEE1 

he  felt  vaguely  accountable.  Witli  the  death  of  Dexter  the 
business  pressure  was  so  far  relieved  that  ho  could  see  hia 
way  clear  from  the  trouble,  for  all  he  had  noodod  was  the 
limo  to  turn  in  that  the  wretched  miser  would  not  grant. 

But,  little  time  was  allowed  to  elapse  before  the  strange 
interlude  in  Clara's  wedding  was  brought  to  an  end.  A 
few  days  after  the  ceremony  Ivan  read  a  brief  cable  dis- 
patch announcing  the  arrival  of  the  Cophalonia  at  Queens- 
town. 

"A  steerage  passenger,"  it  said,  "traveling  as  Nicolaie- 
viteh,  but  known  to  be  one  Liti/ki,  of  Boston,  jumped 
from  the  rail  and  was  drowned  shortly  after  the  steamer 
sighted  the  Irish  coast.11 

"Poor  Litizki!"  thought  Ivan,  "he  died  for  us,"  and  he 
rut  the  item  out  to  show  to  his  \vifo  if  at  some  time  she 
should  ask  whether  anything  had  been  heard  of  the  little 
tailor. 


KND} 


"THE  RHINE, 
THE  ALPS, 
And  the  BATTLEFIELD  LINE." 


The  Famous  i.f,V.  Limitei 


FAST  FLYING  VIRGINIAN 
HAS  NO  E<1UAL  BETWEEN 

CINCINNATI  AND  NEW  YORK, 

Via  Washington,  Baltimore,  and  Philadelphia. 

Vestibuled,  Steam  Heated,  and  Electric  Lighted  Throughout. 
•THROUGH  DINING-  CAB  and  COMPLETE  PULLMAN  SERVICE. 

THROUGH  SLEEPERS  TO  AND  FROM 
ST.  LOUIS,  CHICAQO  AND  LOUISVILLE. 

The  most  interesting  historic  associations  and  the  most  striking  and  beautiful 
scenery  in  the  United  States  are  linked  together  by  the  C  &  O.  System,  which  traverses 
Virginia,  the  first  foothold  of  English  settlers  iu  America,  where  the  Revolutionary 
War  was  begun  and  ended,  and  where  the  great  battles  of  the  Civil  War  were  fought ; 
crosses  the  Blue  R;dge  and  Allegheny  Mountains  and  the  famous  Shenandoah  Valley, 
reaches  the  celebrated  Springs  region  of  the  Virginias,  and  lies  through  the  canons  or 
New  River,  where  the  scenery  is  grand  beyond  description.  It  follows  the  banks  of 
the  Kanawha  and  Ohio  Rivers,  and  penetrates  the  famous  Blue  Grass  region  of  Ken- 
tucky, noted  for  producing  the  greatest  race-horses  of  the  world. 

For  maps,  folders,  descriptive  pamphlets,  etc.,  apply  to  Pennsylvania  Railroad 
ticket  offices  in  New  York,  Philadelphia,  and  Baltimore,  the  principal  ticket  offices 
throughout  the  country,  or  any  of  the  following  C.  &  O.  agencies: 

NEW  YORK— 362  and.  1323  Broadway. 
WASHINGTON— 513  and  1421  Pennsylvania  avenue. 
CINCINNATI— Corner  Fifth  and  Walnut  streets. 
LOUISVILLE— 253  Fourth  avenue. 
ST.  LOUIS— Corner  Broadway  and  Chestnut  street. 
CHICAGO— 234  Clark  street. 

Go  B.  BY  AN,  Assistant  General  Passenger  Agent,  Cincinnati,  O. 

H.  W.  FULLER,  General  Passenger  Agent,  Washington,  D.  CL 


MISSOURI, 

KANSAS, 

INDIAN  TERRITORY, 
TEXAS, 

MEXICO  T 

CALIFORNIA. 


FREE  RECLINING  CHAIR  CARS  ON  ALL  TRAINS. 


THROUGH  WAGNER  PALACt*  BUFFET  SLEEPING  CARS 
FROM  THE  GKISATT  l^S^l^lZ**   TO   THB 


For  further  information  call  on  or  address  your  nearest 
Ticket  Agent,  or 

Iff  AKIilSR,    C.  P.  A  T.  A.. 

St.  Louis, 


I  ^J  \